i realized that i have the power to take the things that oppose and depress me and banish them after i force them into a physical object into the astral realm.
that being said.

I'm gonna roll up your words real tight and I'm gonna smoke them until I'm high- enough so that I forget what you even said in the first place.

And the smoke will enter my lungs and try to choke me but i don't mind being choked-
and i'll blow out your words real slow until they dissipate.
they'll disappear into the air and though i'll be slowed by a cancerous death, I will have controlled it myself.

in other words,
"*******"

your hands hold mine gentle but firm
kisses softly placed on my neck
hushed whispers and silent smiles
i want to tell the world about you
but in this moment
i am content
with quiet love

I want you to know I got home from work and I saw your house had a ton of cars out front.And I wondered about the last time I'd see your (her) car up front. Or the last time I'll feel your sadness. or the last time. but you are not yourself, you see. You're a slave to it. You're entranced by the euphoria of the past. You hate being alone. so much that you leave your friends for a little lingering feeling of love. A memory.  Pictures last longer and you have plenty of those. I made a copy of a poem for you that you may or may not have read. I realized my hand was stuck in the printer. whoops. I know you probably didn't read it or ever will read it. or this. but I have one question,

when are you going to become yourself again?
I don't know how long it's been since you've talked to or even met yourself as yourself. And I think I could've introduced you but I'm gone and you're farther away.
and I want to make myself throw up so you can actually see how ******* sick i am of your *******. I want to have a conversation in person so you have to see me as real. Not a picture-less "helena" or perhaps, now an email.
so you'd have to tell me why.
I need you to tell me why.
I think you owe me that.
you owe yourself that.