You Should See the Other Guy

Scrape the crap off my mind

shat on

battered

flatlining

turned inside out by

his latest violation

 

Never see it coming somehow

He does

The opening gambit seems obvious after the fact

but when it happens I walk right into it

Like a mouse onto a trap

It’s not like there’s anywhere else to walk anyway

He will have his argument no matter what

He needs it

He gets off on it

Always the punchbag, never the boxer

But I give that son-of-a-bitch as good as I get

I want to scold him so bad he never comes near me again.

I want to break off his stinger, shatter his claws, and file down his teeth with carefully chosen words.

It’s hard when the fight or flight kicks in and you’re unaccustomed to it

When your heart’s it beating at a million miles an hour and you don’t feel like you can talk

I’ve learned to suck it up and crawl through it though

Once I get to the other side, I circle him and plunge needles into his sweet spots,

twisting them round while laughing in his face

He’s earned it

Years of watching him set her up and knock her down,

tease her,

taunt her,

blame her,

punish her,

trying to turn her

trying to make her as ugly as he is

 

She’s not weak like him though

 

He envies her grace and courage

He wants to sully what he cannot have

 

So whenever it comes around

I know I’m good for it

and then some

So I go to town on the motherfucker

 

But that aint me

I aint like that

It’s a gear forged in the fires of Hell

that I choose to keep to one side

encased in glass,

labelled “Only smash in emergencies!”,

with a little hammer on the other side,

labelled “Are you sure?”,

because to use it too much

is to risk becoming like him

I cannot have that

 

But when I bring, it I bring it good

He doesn’t like the ones that bite back

He likes a soft target

someone who sits and takes it

and apologises for the inconvenience

someone he can outplay

outthink

outgun

outmanoeuvre

 

I enjoy watching his failure when he tries that horseshit with me

Then come the accusations of me starting the argument

of me being devious in my answers

Too dumbfounded to dignify it with a response,

I simply hold a polished mirror up

and watch as his accusations bounce back in his face

at the speed of light

 

When the available fuel is spent

when we’ve pummelled each other within an inch of our lives,

we limp back to our separate corners

to lick our wounds and recover

 

Until he gets amnesia,

and thinks he can take me again

which he always does

 

Then he brings his fancy new moves

and I slap them all down and dragon ball him out of the ring

But it leaves me with zero satisfaction,

feeling like my insides have been vacuumed out

and I’ve been filled up with dog shit instead

 

I feel horrible in a way nothing else can

 

This vile dissonance between writhing pain and a frenzied adrenaline high

The latter waltzes with my Pure O

to try to convince me that I secretly enjoy it

I do not fucking enjoy it

I hate it

Always have always will

It’s like a tide of raw sewage that you know is coming in

but you never know when

and if you’re not careful it catches you while you’re sleeping

or with your mouth open

 

But I cannot just lie down and let him steamroll over me

Not in this life

So I fight and I will as long as I have breath in my body

But each time, I feel like I lost something new,

like another used condom has been tossed into the backseat of my soul

like a Devil broke into my secret garden and trampled another rose into the ground

 

Some religions say it’s a sin to dishonour your father

Well colour me a sinner cos I wish he’d died before I was born

before I had the misfortune of knowing him

 

Then I could’ve lived with the false idea of a good man I never knew,

someone my life would have been better for knowing

 

I envy people with those fathers they can talk to,

go for a pint with,

go bowling with,

talk about problems with,

be on the same side as sometimes,

eat a meal without them staring at you like they want to rape you or murder you,

love

 

These things were taken from me a long time ago

back when my father died

 

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