Taking out the Trash

the warmth in the belly of your soul doesn't seek to suck the sweet nectar from my sore heart, swelling with passion and desire. 

How it was, what we were. Who you are and what you are--the distinction is becoming clear. 

I treat your apathy like a common cold but this is all in vain, 

to sit and wait whilst splitting my cares into two, to donate to you.

It's a beautiful burden to care for you and I calculate the reasons to let up

Cuz you're preoccupied with your objectivity

While I'm craving unity

Cuz I'm an alcoholic and you're my flask

And to you I'm just a simple task.

One day I'll be all-encompassing spontaneity

And you'll be the man who demands careful planning and punctuality

But I will run around town and leave you last on the list

My least important deed, likely to be missed.

For the time I spent being seen as a 'task' I have been reduced to being as insignificant and mundane as doing the laundry or taking out the trash.

I still wish to have a mind with potholes where cares were meant to be.