I lie to you.
I lie to you with every smile,
and I lie to you with ever note of laughter.
I lie to you with every promise that I'm fine.
Because I am most definitely not fine.
Not happy, not functioning, not sane.
My forehead needs a hole bored into it
     to relieve the pressure.
My veins need some air bubbles injected
     to give my heart a break.
My stomach needs a bombardment of chemicals
     to still the churning torrent.
My nose and mouth need to be smothered
     to block out the putrid air.
The engine of my car would be better suited
wrapped around a telephone pole.
Showers seem so incomplete
without a wired toaster to cling to.
Cleaning products don't convince me
unless they have both bleach and ammonia.

You lie to me.
You lie to me with every hug,
and you lie to me with every word of comfort.
You lie to me with every admission of love.

Aren't we ever the cleverest couple of liars.
Whatever your reasons,
and no matter mine,
neither of us is willing to let go of the lies.
So as long as you love me, and as long as I'm fine,
how about we just play house?