It is the way

you say it. When you say it.
The way you whisper it.
The teasing promises of it.
The enticing mental imagery.

Fear in the cautious background.
What would they say, what would they?
The never-ending judgement,
caused by detached self-reflection.

So you ignore it just as I.
See beyond it, into the now.
You whisper once more,
and the dream escalates.

Minding it, minding out.
You give a dream,
and it follows it all.
The reaction from it.

I know you think it.
I think you know it.
You smile, I smile.
I am going to kill you“.

The pinned down word agrees,
The tea of thee and three.
You know it, you ought to.
The smile gives you away.

For goodness fuckness sake,
I hate these all inbred retards!
We ought to kill them all,
and get on with the great!

One more pretty please!“,
she asks as the door goes.
Not for you, but for her.
I say as I point at the future.

You can never take her place,
as long as you are not her.

The egotistical frustration,
proves the lack of her.