They all revise my
History as if they were
Always on my side,
But I remember
What I really am to them:
A space monkey, the
One they pinned their dreams
On, kept in a cage, fed drugs,
Forgot on weekends.
Strapped in a tube and
Shot into space. They don’t know
How cold it is here.
Their show of support
Rings hollow as I labor
To save a world
Not my own, drifting
Further from who I am and
My still beating heart.
I wanted to catch
Your conscience by telling you
Honestly about
The pain you caused me
But you just tightened your grip
On my throat, grinning.
Better plan a quick
Funeral because you are
Fucking dead to me.
It only hurts when I
Breathe, or hope, or believe
In something again.
When you quit drinking,
Started running, and you were
Meditating for
Hours every day,
We just all thought you were gay
Or suicidal.
Food doesn’t taste right.
Take a pill. Feeling mean. Take
A pill. Dark clouds hang
Over me. Take a pill.
This time I’ll feel better. I
Take a pill. I wait.
You have to give up.
Hope is what is killing you.
It will never change.
It will always hurt
Like this. Nothing will improve it.
Release it and breathe.
I identify
With former child stars, washed
Up. Anonymous,
Unaddicted, still
Am I a tarnished relic
Of former promise.
She keeps her martyr’s
Funeral pyre beneath
Our bed, ready to
Light and lay upon
It, devoured in flames like
She always wanted.
I recollect this,
Decide to keep my mouth shut.
The fire smolders.
