the beekeeper.

shoot the dog in the backyard.

i am in an endless cycle of infatuation and neediness.
and you know what?
it's pretty shitty.
crawling back to people who i wronged in the past
like a dog with a broken leg,
tail tucked between my legs,
whining and begging to be let inside.

the second i get a whiff of unattraction or the loss of interest,
i slink off to the nearest ditch to die like the mutt i am,
but i never do.
never completely.
i can rot while still alive and bleed out every morsel,
but still my lungs will shake out the bad
and bring in the scent of wet asphalt and mud.

i go by different names.
i go to different houses
to different people with different collars
and different toys
and ultimately different forms of abuse.

kick me in the ribs for running off again.
shoot me with a B.B. gun for coming back.
it doesn't matter;
i crave love and affection and i'll get it from the same people until i get tired of their presence,
and it'll repeat until they give up on me and my wishywashy way of living.

i am a runaway that needs to be fenced in.
don't give me a reason to escape,
but better yet,
don't let me disappear if there isn't any.
i ruin things for people who love me
and ruin myself when my love isn't reciprocated.
the constant dissatisfaction inside of my brain causes endless trouble for the interpersonal loneliness inside of my heart.
it's just a race to see which one ultimately drives me to my death.

i wish someone would notice the torn tendons in my leg and shoot me,
because there's no reason to buy a cast for a mutt who won't obey.