I killed it with kindness. Murdered it with kisses. Criminal words tripped over each other in my throat and came out tangled and woozy. Then I got tired of politeness and her pearly white condescension. While a real person sat inside in the cavernous dark of my chest and wrote grisly scriptures. She walked upstairs and pasted them to the walls of my skull, used them to bandage together all of the broken grey matter connection. She made new made good on all of the deals I’d once made for myself. So I let her stay. I find I’m not so singular as I may have once been. I share these eyes with more levels of perception than I often perceive – and none of them seem to really have it right. None of them seem to ever agree. When it’s too quiet I can hear them argue; like a tired memory of mom and dad in the kitchen. I slip headphones in and seek a state of ignorance as momentary relief. I wipe tears with no explanation; just clear and rolling. I look out windows as the world passes by. I watch the sun slide from horizon to horizon. I sit on park benches in silence. I am slowly decaying.