Thinking Out Loud

When you ask me,
in that manner,

Can you
tell me what you're thinking?

I want to run away,
and crack my bones
and light myself on fire.

I want the orange tongues
of dancing flames
to sear
the lips of my desires -
ones
that make your eyes humid,
that dot your
translucent lids with white
curtains of sorrow,
that cause your heart to sink
into a galaxy of darkness.

You treat my longings as
conscious decisions
sprouting out of volition;
And my inner self
with such judgment, 
and contempt and disdain,
that I wish we had never known
one another, that
I were born an oyster
or a jar of yellow paint.