I live here.
How long have you been plotting to turn me out?
I’ve written poetry for you.
Others have betrayed me-
Not understanding how they failed themselves.
You were loyal, firm.
I believed in you.
I knew we could beat the odds,
We already have,
But that’s not enough.
Evicted from my physical home,
You begged me “ hold on.”
Somehow, I’ve overstayed my welcome.
It’s not you it’s me.
My bones ache from chemical “cures.”
My organs are half gone,
Others work as if they don’t even belong to our little collective-
What I like to call, “my life.”
We’ve always faced this together-
Basking in warm accolades.
“I love the way your brain works!”
“Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“You’re so smart.”
Marinating in an ocean of cerebral spinal fluid,
Plotting your fait accompli.
I may go down this time,
But it does me good
I’m taking you with me.