Your daydreams
were my first drug
long before the bottle.
Even now, you ******
with fantasies of revenge,
the perfect woman,
world peace.
Is there an “I” without you?
Are you even “mine”?
You seem to believe
you could survive without me,
that you are immortal, omniscient.
Sometimes you are a friend,
more often an enemy,
like an abusive spouse
I cannot leave.
Master and slave,
liar and prophet,
giving with one hand
stealing my life with the other.
The lies you tell
about what others think
are the worst.
You con me into believing
your story is true.
Occasionally I catch you
at what you are doing.
I shine a light on you,
and you disappear.
You’re nowhere and everywhere,
I hear your laughter,
mocking the oracle’s injunction
to “know thyself.”