An OCD dialogue.
“Out of my eyes,
Out into a world of tainted truths and confusing times,
Shocked I was alone, until I heard the distant scratching that became your call – your dreaded sign.
I had potential, you smelled this, and now I’m cold and blue and tangled in a sodden hole.
A dream is a witch, or so you said, and kept me locked into my thoughts, while she merely cackled over cold stones.
Sobbing into my hands, I lost attention but gained every gruesome detail, as one does, as you knew.
Fucking monster in my marrow, do you dream this nightmare too?”
“Sweet Emily! I would not exist without you,
Yet could not care a cold stroke of lightning.
Had I been so weak as to be ignored, you would not know my wrath, nor mercy on much kinder days.
I am the reflection in the fjord, the nightmare on a horse,
I am your sword arm as well as your twisted spine.
Without me you could not celebrate such relief, and may have died a thousand times.
You were going nowhere but the gutter,
A baneful, human child, no different from the others.”
“Ha! You are fantasy, hot lies in my ear.
A thick oil to ruin my canvas one brushstroke from the end.
You kept me hidden, dead indoors, kicked me down the cellar steps, then nailed me to the floor.
What exactly do you plan? It is suicide to kill me here – for surely we are one,
So why such fuss and manic eyes that force my hand to grasp that fucking gun?
If you look too deep you may find yourself at the bottom of this twisted well.
Acceptance that this is us, that oblivion isn’t if but when,
We lost ourselves along the way, as one does, as you knew.
Fucking monster in my marrow, do you have such nightmares too?”