If Asked You Haven't Seen Me
Ok, I’m leaving.
You can stop with the voices —
that’s not me, it’s my psychosis.
Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you.
This one’s playing music
without a piano — I can tell she’s
****** up, changing songs
every minute.
What’s happening? I’m curious
which radio station
this one’s talking from.
I think I should go there.
I’m starting to lose
my patience — known to recur.
One night, looking downward
toward her screaming in the corner,
I remember: I’ve seen this before.
My writing, how I humanized.
I’m calmer than when we first met —
seeing and hearing her
from first to last,
the same free psychotic episode
I’m getting used to.
I named her, but that seems useless.
She just laughs, cries, screams
—not in any order—
and angers if I ignore her.
Her whispers are louder.
She has to be close; I feel
her breath. I’m surprised
my pills aren’t working.
I need sleep — if I do, it’ll only be an hour.
I hope my nightmares stay at bay.
The both of them always hurt
my mind as I listen.
She is Lady Agares.
I will not name my nightmares —
his name is my own.
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