Let The Clown Finish The Act

If I loved you any more, if I loved you anymore
I would care about the dark circles under your eyes

and the shame to your father
for destroying his strong family name

commending your violence, on cut-and-run day
I resigned as your deus ex machina

replacing your economics of deceit
and the lack of topography in your voice

with gate-crashing reminiscent of the Tracy Awards
a most acceptable anesthetic of choice

far removed from the days when I would cry alone
aware that if I were your addiction

you would have known
right where to find me.