Remote

You missed your chance

Again.

“There’s always next time”

They tell me

But how many “next time”’s

Can there be

And how long can “next time”’s

Count for anything

When every “next time”

Is like the last.

You missed your chance

Again.

“Just be more assertive”

They tell me

And I would if I fucking could

But I’m not always in control of myself.

Choice of behavior is stunted

When I’m held back,

Wrists tied together,

Voice box put on mute,

Unable to reach or call for

What’s right in front of me.

“Be more assertive”

They say to me,

But not to the invisible monster

That has me in shackles,

Mouth oozing with remembrances

Of doubt and fears and uncertainties--

How do I be certain

That “next time” will be different?

How do I tame the beast

That keeps me from what I

Ache to do, to feel?

When everyone around me sees none

Of the abuse

That I battle endlessly

With a sword that loses a little more

Of its shine

Every day;

It dulls, and I weaken.

You missed your chance

Again.

And

I’m tired

Of the “next time”s

That can never be

And the

Empty “assertive” reassurances.

It sounds so easy

When they tell me to

“Be more assertive”

And hold out hope for

The “next time”--

Almost as though

The remote that controls the

Volume of my inner and outer voice

Is in my own hands,

In my own grasp,

To do with as I please;

Almost as though

I can put my unseen monster

On mute

And speak freely;

Like I can put it on pause

Before it gets to me,

Giving me just enough time to

Find the key and

Break free of

All those missed opportunities

Again and again,

And make my own choices,

To be more “assertive,”

And erase every “next time”

And make it into a “this time.”

But

The remote is in the clawed hands

Of my invincible foe,

And the key to my shackles

Is lost in time,

Caught in an endless loop of

“Next time”’s

And missed opportunities.

You missed your chance

Again.

Not because I chose to

Reject the “choice” to

“Be more assertive,”

But because

There always was,

Always will be

So much more holding me back

Than can ever be seen or tasted

By the unaware eyes and oblivious tongues

Of all the people

Who walk in a world

Free of remotes;

People who

Breathe in fresh air

Free of handcuffs,

And navigate themselves and others

Free of demons;

People who

Could never understand

The ambiguities of being “assertive,”

And the impossibly hopeful expectations

And pressures of

“Next time”s.

You missed your chance

Again

Again

Again.