you've left me mired in oil and the floatsom of my disasters
on today of all days, you turned your back on myself
i'm a bloated corpse of a person, eyes pecked out by metaphorical seagulls
a broken heart surrounded by unexplained tissue, but free of arterial clogs
perhaps the tissue is all that holds the charade together
and why should i morn someone who won't let me gloat
on today of all days, i had something to talk about
i had seen so much beauty and so much human misery
but you took that from me, and it was all about your perceived problems
because you have a problem with perspective
all you can see is the time gone by, you miss what was outside the window
all of the misery and human beauty that we saw and shared together
and the wreckage from which I've rebuilt my life
the one that i built for the two of us to share
and now i don't see the new world I've built
only the wreckage from before and the oil that surrounds it
but today of all days, you should have left my dreams unbattered
you should have let me pretend that the piles of debris were the castles
that we were going to live in together
and which you decided, today of all days,
was nothing more than a pile of debis, awash in an oil spill
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