Stockpiling

We keep on watching,
even if we have already decided,
no, correction, you decided,
both what and why,
and how long we will be watching,
without one word lost between,
bringing a connection,
exactly the craziness that fuels ignorance,
your nastiest nightmares,
run all away from except for this,
last crucial torment,
witnessing it slowly dying,
to at last,
squirm helplessly in a draining field,
when your phone call,
finally breaks its eventual deathly silence.

I want to somehow figure this all out,
while you continue madly drifting,
seemingly never sorry,
as the only actual pain,
must infinitely come from my direction,
knowing merely what is supposedly,
always perfectly right,
taken against every foul strike,
saying we attack from contrary angles,
yet mean to honestly achieve the same promise,
although not accepting either strategy,
disregarding also each other’s,
so-called trustworthy track record,
extended across a line of experience,
basing the cost from science and feeling,
teetering on selective memory and reasoning.