Sci·am·a·chy noun [sahy-am–uh-kee]: an act or instance of fighting a shadow or an imaginary enemy.
You call me your dark side
But I’m not one side
Or another side
I’m your inside.
You call me your shadow
But that cannot be true
Because how is that your shadow
You say you want me to leave
But you still sleep with me
Reach out to me
Even though I carve crosses on your heart line
Make a river of blood where there once was a life line
While you twitch and cry so helplessly
While clouds of cotton darkness dust
The world you once could see
And you’re jerked around as though hooked up
Don’t leave me with my thoughts, you say
So I settle down and breathe out fog
Around your ugly face.
You will never awake, I hiss,
But you will not die.
Instead, I give you dreams
Of an airtight coffin
Built of the love you know
Of sunset-colored sins
And how the mask you wear outside
Is not the face within
Dreams of empty arms
And falling stars
And the hundred thousand million
Failures of your heart.
You will never get away
You lie in bed dead while rats
Nibble at your nightgown
While your nails turn black
And your veins change to green cracks
I have taken so much of your life
That the only tears you now can cry
Are pale blue chips of ice.
And you lie there
As stupid as you always were
As weak as you have chosen to become
You’re just a dumb little warrior
With an already broken blade
So do you want to fight?
Be my guest—I’m not afraid
Because the more you hate and hurt and hide
And hunt down misery
The less there is of you
And the more there is of me.