i had a great day, i really did, i'm not being sarcastic. so where is this coming from?

[godream]

tell you what:
this time, i'll be the bandit.
newspaper-lettered orders:
speak only when i tell you to.
say: "it's all right
i only ever needed you, happy.
love, you can't fuck this up
no matter how hard you try."
and i will narrow my eyes,
a skeptic in a ski mask,
and i will hold the threat
of guilt and hurt and tears
pulsing to your temple,
as tense fingers twitch,
lips purse, then part --
and softly you'll murmur
that it'll all be okay.

.

the horrible pace at the end is driving me crazy, but the point here is more poetry-therapy, so who cares?