Saturday, 1 April 2006

Saviour Complex

I am sorry to say this, but you have a Saviour Complex
I am sorry that because of this, you feel you have to save the world
The bastards, the degenerates
The scum of the earth
They all get your attention
Your time...Your love
You give them the best of yourself
And save nothing for those who love you

Nothing, not a drop, for your friends, your family, your loved ones
Who look to you for companionship and care
Some measure of trust, of loyalty
and of glorious musketeerhood
All for one, one for all
And all those kinds of sentimental crap
At the very least we expect you not to sell us down the river
Not to betray our confidences, our secrets, our trust

What has happened to your Saviour Complex
For those who don't need to be saved on a daily basis?
For those who don't need their hands held every second?
For those who are not shrivelled little shadows
Of the people they could be or once were?
Don't you at least have a Friend Complex
Where you treat those who treat you well
At least as well as you treat those who abuse you emotionally, verbally, physically?

Are you so far gone that you can only repay love, hope and kindness
With complete indifference and the betrayal of trust
With no respect for friendship and a total loss of confidence and conviviality?
Are you so far out there in the depths of your martyrhood and your sacrificial lamblikeness
That you can no longer see the forests,
for the trees,
for the shrunken dead shrubs,
for the smelly decomposing roots of your hideous blind trust in the wrong people?

Can't you see that your irrational Saviour Complex
Has you howling nonsensically at the moon
While barking up the wrong tree on the wrong continent
On a planet that no longer even exists?
Are you so enamoured
that you are blinded by mere words and sweet talk
That you cannot recognise what's happening, nor make an objective assessment anymore
On all the empirical evidence before you?

He sucks, can't you see?
He's one of the lowest forms of life
An idiotic arse
A moronic lunatic, at the very least
He is, I'm sorry to say, the quintessential bastard!
He's a useless user
An frigging abuser
A sordid lying gossipy accuser

Get out before you get sucked into the whirling maelstrom of his anger, hurt and rage
Before all that is beautiful about you
Is eroded by the acid rain of his screwed up history
Before your wonderful friendliness and sweet nature
Is destroyed by the evil nerve gas of his sociopathic personality
He does not come up to the standard, He is not of satisfactory quality
You better return the object
That your martyr-making Saviour Complex has bought you

Or you will soon be circling the drain
Of everyone's respect, dignity and hope for you
And now that you have made your bed
I'm sorry to say that you'll have to lie in it
With his disgusting small-mindedness
With his evil thoughts, with his acid words
With his hatred for all those who love you
And wish for you only the best in life

He needs to control
He needs to subjugate
He needs to own
He needs to break down
All that is independent
All that is strong about you
He needs to kill your spirit
And I fear he might have done it already

I see you standing in the hallways
Willingly bearing the brunt of his anger
Your hands at your mouth, your eyes deep pools of limpid brown
Your desperate soul screaming so horrendously
As you stand in the eye of the storm, his tornado of freakish madness and irrational lunacy
Surrounding you, whipping you silent, obliterating you
How shocking for me that you, o strong woman, are a willing victim
A standard bearer for all that is messed up in this world

I can no longer help you nor rescue you
For we are in different dimensions of thought and being
You have chosen your bramble path so easily
Despite my fervent warnings to the contrary
And so now, I grieve, as the time has come for us to part
I need my sanity too and can no longer hold my fear for your well-being in my mind
I can no longer hold my constant worries for your safety, health and happiness
In the palm of my hand

Goodbye, beloved former friend of mine
I wish you well
You have your Saviour Complex to keep you happy through
the long, hard, years of your willing bondage
to the lunatic arse... the psychotic sociopath axis of Evil you dare to call a boyfriend
Call me when you’ve come to your senses
For old times' sake
I promise not to say
"I told you so"


Anne Varghese (2006)

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