i lie all the time, but i mean well.
i mean, i lie because i mean well.
if i knew what i was saying, i would elaborate
but i don't so i'll elaborate on how i can't elaborate.

i remember not knowing.
all i knew was that i didn't know
and i couldn't know
but i needed to know.
i felt like i'd already lost you.
there you were, almost lifeless- bandaged and drugged
missing parts of you you didn't even realize you'd had.
i thought you'd die that day
but you didn't.
you died last night
when you woke me up in the middle of the night
and said goodbye to me.
i'm losing you.

don't you remember dancing in the kitchen?
don't you remember me crying for you?
it was never easy to face the facts about your father
it was never easy because it drove a wedge between us
that i never felt was even there.

i don't know why i thought
that somebody could help me.
that somebody could navigate for me.
how could they?
i haven't had a solid thought in years and it's up to me to fix it.
i just don't want to put the effort in.
i don't want to face reality.

this is all just some huge charade i made up in my mind
so i could live inside delusions
and never open up my eyes
to what i don't want to see.

as people continue to bow their exists though
it's being dwindled; whittled away
and soon
all of the characters i was using to keep this fantasy in line
will no longer be around to be the players in my theater.

how am i going to open my eyes?
how am i going to pick at the hot-glue
dried in little droplets seeping frozen from my lids
without bleeding and deforming?
they won't even be the same.
even when the blood crusts over
and scabs
and then heals
this disfigurement is something i will fight against
and fuck against.
no more selfpitying soliloquys.
stand up,
break you legs bitch
and walk a few miles.
then tell me how it feels.