Your signals as mixed as the artist's palate

after the masterpiece he never managed to finish.

Your words as cryptic as the Minotaur’s labyrinth,

holding the beast inside for none to see.

Your way up is down for me, your way in is out.

Do we go forward or go back,

do we part and hope one comes out alive?

I follow the signs that say 'future'

you follow a map where the x marks the past,

and nothing you see falls outside those crossed lines,

nothing frees you from the captivity of your own faults

but the promise of going nowhere anytime soon,

and all I can give you is the promise

of going somewhere no-time soon.

So we sit here pulling each other one way and another

not seeing that all we're doing is forcing

each other to run in circles around the other,

hoping one of us will give in soon,

the soles of our feet boring trenches into the dirt

that will eventually lead us to an asphalt hell

where night never comes and only hatred knows the day.

Knowing no happiness pursues this path,

should we go more than six feet under together,

I would free your hand that you could climb from this pit,

and finally go your way alone to be lost in the labyrinth.

Just as I will never find my way out,

you will never find your way to the center

to face the beast you so wish to kill.

Should you ever forget your way, though,

I've written my name on faded notebook paper

stamped it with a kiss, quietly tucked it into your pocket

so should I hear my name in this maze of tunnels

I would always come find you.