Can’t Escape You Even If I Tried (Which I Won’t)

This isn’t a poem. It’s not a love letter or a break-up note. I have no clue what it is. Oh yes, it’s therapy. Yes, that’s it.

You’re intoxicating because you’re always here.

Everything is chaos.

You show me everything.

You show me nothing.

I need stability.

You bring it.

You are who you are.

You have it all.

You have nothing at all.

I am empty.

You are full.

You are shiny.

You are bleak.

You are strong.

I am weak.

You ease pain, fear, and anxiety.

You cause it.

You’re intoxicating because you’re always here.

You never have plans.

You always make time for me.

I make too much time for you.

I can’t escape you.

I’m always with you.

You are a joy.

You are an albatross.

You give me your undivided attention.

I don’t give you mine.

You soothe me.

You punish me.

You’re intoxicating because you’re always here.

You will never leave me.

We treat each other the same.

We treat each other differently.

You are my only friend.

I might be yours.

You listen to me.

You never listen.

I will never listen or learn.

I talk too much.

You do so much.

You say too little.

You’re intoxicating because you’re always here.

You are the raft when I need it.

You are the cement brick when I’m already drowning.

People let me down.

You are here.

People don’t listen.

You are here.

People are noise.

You are here.

People are people.

You are here.

I want too much.

You are here.

I need to feel.

You are what I’ve got.

You are reliable.

I need communication.

I breakdown.

You try.

I fail.

You’re intoxicating because you’re always here.

You are a smartphone for a fool like me.