You’ve continued to Gaslight me
and minimize my concerns
whether they’re about me or you,
and it’s making me crazy; it’s making me doubt myself and
question
my every move
when it comes to you.
And sometimes
what i do with my life.
And I’m not sure anymore darling;
i don’t think this is light anymore.
This is dark—
it’s gotten quite dark.

When did it become midnight?
It’s pitch black out here,
and i didn’t notice until the pink faded away
and i turned to look at u
instead of the dark blue.

You were my distraction,
my medication,
my muse.

And what’s worse is that i still haven’t quite gotten a handle on deciphering between whether or not
to get upset over something that was not ill-intended...
but i do.
I always do.
And it’s my fault
because it’s my mind;
it’s something the chemicals in my brain do.
And i guess I just can’t do this anymore because
you’re not healthy for me.
My brain doesn’t seem to be producing those chemicals I need
when I'm without you.
Do you know what that’s called?
Codependency.

So I’d look at your eyes
instead of the night sky;
the sky that was as black as the ink in my journal,
where I write endlessly about the things you do that hurt me because I can’t, I (just) can’t tell you them.
(Your schizophrenia and depression do regardless.)
And anyway, you tell me otherwise.
You make me feel crazy, remember?
Like I have memory loss or an early onset of dementia...

You motherf*cker.

All the while,
I never realized we were in the dark.
We’re still in the dark.
So, what do I do?

What will I be left with if I do that thing you’re going to tell me to do?

delaminated

I've broken free

the blade undone

cover me with a round of fire

and I'll meet you

on the landing strip

but where's the safety net?

where are the professionals?

it's not war that chills my spine

this time

it's the final take