Why the hell are your implying eternity with just one kiss?
Marriage is for the tenacious warrior
Not for the dreamers who demonize soulful solitude
The thought of waking up with you every morning
Sickens me to my very core
There is nothing more odious than being chained to children
I’m the one with the seemingly endless birthing pangs.
What pain must you endure-
My unendurable temper- you impetuous oaf
What would you bring into this love?
I’ve cut my heart out
Extricated my individual aspirations
If I am impregnated, I’m imbued with purpose
I am further bound to this loveless marriage
One kiss, one wedding; seemingly endless imprisonment
God ordained you as the “head” of the house
Were mental faculties implied with that reference?
Or were you thinking of something less honorable?
There’s nothing cerebral about you or this legal arrangement
I labor away my spirit by being religiously bound to you
Beyond the solemn, cold temple of holy matrimony
There are other temples
Filled to the brim with headless males
Unfortunately wedded to spineless females
Without this forced sanction, we weren’t so quarrelsome
My silent prison remains “our house of God”
Of course, its really your dominion alone
Wasn’t it you who’ve always been God?
Binding me to this sanctified prison
Seeing nothing in me but an inept vessel
Without children, I have no purpose
With children, I’m further sacrificing
Every vestige of those dreams I once had
My soul ached for purposeful work
I must dutifully stay silent in your temple
As the children age, I wither away
Did I ever even love you?
Can real love involve my whole self?
Or is my personal integrity
Superseded by antiquated superstitions
Vaguely, beyond the cobwebs of my mind
I think I remembered loving sex
No, I am only having hallucinations again
Too much dust collecting in our house
Is my own internal soul not even my home no more?
I’m reproached to stay silent forevermore-
Attending to the children in agonizing perpetuity
Its the cruel cycle of being only cherished for utility
I’m a mechanized wife, the sole woman of your lustful prayers
To “God,” to your over-sized ego,
St. Paul was your luminary
Spiritually goading me to remain in holy silence
You are the mind that mechanized me
Turning my heart into an unfeeling iron cage
That has the heartbeat like a harsh, painful grind
My assets-every private part of me
All belongs to both you and your “God”
I have no will, but your own and God’s
The whippings are paradoxically pleasurable now
Ever since resigning every last humane part of me
If I could truly love beyond these rigid commandments
Weirdly enough, I still pray to a private lover
Am I a heathen, trying to restore my lost soul?
Was I always this tinkering, thoughtless machine
Forever bound to your large temple
What God loves me, Who loves me?
Is love just an operative term?
Utilized to control my every move
When I waste away,
Will I then rediscover my soul?
A Bibliophile's Reverie 