old friends (a letter to everyone-)

i closed my eyes; It opened them—

borrowed borrowed life, brought only pain

to pay for it; hypocritically, insisted

that i pay my debt: return myself

i opened my fists; It closed them shut,

raised them high, then rained them down, drumming

upon the waiting face, upturned to receive

the brunt of the blow; i laughed, delighted by the places

It was taking me, all the places i’d

never thought to go

i hid from the world; It squirmed to the front

they saw It then, naked, ugly,

when i was so close: almost free

from the heavy irony of my body, and

about to find my own sort of happiness

and they told me i was losing time

but instead i’m losing my mind,

the only thing i can do correctly:

break myself, beg It to fix me. but they told me

i was okay, that i was beautiful and powerful,

and told It to go away.

it left.

now

it’s been years inside this balmy sphere,

so my mouth is wide

but too much so; they’re opening me up again

& here i am walking through that dark frame,

stuffed with comfort  as fallible and fragile

as my thoughts. my hand is on the brassy knob;

the door swings open, and there———

i closed that door; you opened it—

broke my broken life, brought plenty of pain

to pay for it. unaware, you insisted

that i carry out my duty: be happy, be

happy, be normal.