"On WE" Ennui

Its just another reassuring way to buckle my knees; the realization that truth is the bottom of a bottomless pit. Twice this week I have awoken because I forgot to breathe and I thought that was supposed to be involuntary but something is wrong with me; I need a friend, to whom to tell my tedium. Yes, quite right, less a friend and more an ear, to bend. Because friendship implies some kind of give/take, some kind of camaraderie, but all I want is someone to think that I am worth knowing, that my brain is worth picking, that my company is worth having, that my sneezes are worth blessing. Maybe something bordering on adoration but not like a lover because I have been properly re-acculturated and I know, for a scientific irrefutable fact, that men are biologically incapable of sexual fidelity and its not their fault that novelty is a goddamn sacrament. But back to what I was saying, I don't know if I want someone to worship me or what, but I kind of think I just want someone to think I was really fucking special?? Or, rather, the most special? And I have to tell you, I feel like a favorite fucking workhorse these days, and I don't mean that to sound like I feel unappreciated, because I know I am appreciated, in the strictest sense of the word, in the cool, quiet of the pre-summer night; when I have finally FINALLY gone to bed (away) and the children are sleeping and the luxuries of a modern Western life can be enjoyed without my interruption. And I can cook up all kinds of apology from recipes I've picked up over the years, and I fully admit, I have some really fucking far out ideas about love and the mightiness of. And, yes, I am pretty sure that most of my shit would go away if I could find something about myself to love or someone to convince me that such an animal even exists. I suppose that the devotion and personal sacrifice that people who love me must daily make should be evidence enough, but I'm rill sorry to say that it just isn't, because I (sigh) am just the way that I am. You see, I fish for compliments to validate me(?)(because I didn't win enough blue ribbons as a kid or something?)(or I have daddy issues or mommy issues?)(or a pretty superior inferiority complex?)(or an abandonment neurosis?) but I hate when they take the bait. And I see:

the seams
in their sagging arguments
in favor of Me
through the brick-broken
pane
of my heartsick
brain