I know who you are, I lived you, caressed
your involucre, immersed in your depth,
saw the entangled black worms creeping
inside you clogging your arteries, asphyxiating

your organs to insanity, as colourful
butterflies flee from your orbits, escaping
your darkness wetting your eyes, when
you bitterly smile.

I recognise you, your thoughts tarnishing
my mind, understand each one of them as if
they were mine, inhaling what inspires you
grasping the intensity of what’s invisible

to me and so clear to your impeccable
logic, every twist and straight line of your rationality,
all the synapses connecting dots through, nervous
impulses you so eagerly burn in smoke.

I distinguish who and what you hold dear, where
you hide your memories and how you use them,
the books you read and those you pretend
you did, the dread of glasses resting on your nose,

the physical agony your endure each time,
the weather changes, each time you move
to please me, before I fall asleep to the words
of the seven voices within you.

I feel your essence, cherish what delights you,
random pleasures attentive to details while
pupils transpire the shadows of your sorrows,
traveling time to acknowledge their origin,

your traumas and pains, I sense your tragic
nobility. I know why you shout acquainted,
with your biggest enemy, yourself, endangering
your health with drugs and alcohol,

your intelligence torturing you, your emotions
suiciding you.

I know you are unable to help yourself and that I
can’t either, and I now know I have to keep
a distance, for chemical reactions get me
addicted to your worst.