remotecontrol

There is sadism in the way we talk.
The love that exists is not spoken of.

You long to soar off skyward to kiss the stars
but because of my own selfishness I hold you here,
afraid that you might plunge to your death
and leave me alone.

I steal your shoes. . .
laughing quietly as you cut your feet on broken glass.
You await sentencing as I ponder your inadequacies.
I hurt you to keep the distance between us - because you are too good.

My wires attached to your head,
I hook up my television and watch through your eyes.