Eileen's Language

I hate colons, Semi-colons, Commas, All the dots, The street’s dashed and bold lines The formal and informal Business and love letters, And what worsens my stomach pain, The civilized patterns, Motifs, And jokes and dilemmas. I hate it all I hate to list, Lay down, Lay out, All the focused and structured Feelings, And etiquettes. I hate this inventory of What I like And what I do not like. I like to vomit them all; Like a rusted wood suitcase Is vomiting its rusted nails. I do not like to face you Eileen; Until I empty All my guts From the rust And the antic puppets, Heroes, and clowns I have been storing Since ancient times, Since the time my first ancestor Stood up And walked through the cold And warm lands. I will not promise you Eileen … Because, you never did Or you may not be there Waiting For me. For a fancy commitment. I hate to be prized, Competition, Waiting for a reward, Fake smiles, and Boredom Are my worst enemies. I like to earn you with my own sweat. I have to stay away Somewhere On the darkest spot of the sun Anywhere! It does not matter! I have to stay away From the language you speak, Your perfect grammar, Your perfect dress, Your perfect town, Your perfect healthy food, Your compulsive food, And your anxious thoughts And mood. I need to breathe first So I can Like you first And then up… Up … Love you again.