The Wrong Direction

This time there was
no burning timbre,
eyes in a chokehold,
mouse skittering
away from a vise
        too slowly--

a near decade
of searching for
concrete reasons
in guitar solos
never lasting long
                  enough,

trying to peel back
a lifetime of
              rock formations
cemented over your
              emotions,

feeling around in
an empty bed
w/ the soundtrack
of pins thrown into
    a fan blade.

Shook
shocked it wasn't
my lungs's damage
that nailed together
the sky bridge away
                    from you--

three missed flights
multiplied
 blistered by
the insane cost
of the ignorant bliss
you bought on every
    street corner
during your trips thru
      my city of
  enigmatic lighters
    & DOA pauses

lit only by
chinese lanterns sent up
w/ a wish for happiness
       stuck inside
w/ multicolored neon
you were never
             an outlet for.

I do not hate you
for never noticing
the body
     doubling weight
in every padlocked
            sigh,

but I can never
             forgive you
for calling my uncontrollable
                   reality
a purposefully set
     minefield
       trap.