Detachment

The room was anechoic,

yet his words echoed…

surely he knows this.

But to oppose his psychosis

of course he would notice.

This monster gagged me, ragged on me,

he dragged me every which way.

Pulled me down to drown,

I flailed around,

I couldn’t escape.

He bashed me,

we clashed.

His tongue lashed at me,

and I bit mine.

Escape.

It's time.

Escape.

You’ll be fine.

Escape.

…

I wonder how he remembers that day.

I don’t remember much these days,

but that day lives in infamy.

“Lazy”

“Useless”

“Piece of–” no.

I can’t let his words have worth,

can’t let them fester and grow.

Before I can react, I’m packed.

Physically free, mentally trapped.

I detain his disdain, soul detached.

Detached from his fraudulent reality,

yet still I was a casualty.

Frantically I drove,

blew a red light,

sped down the road,

no where to go.

I’ve always wanted to go home.

But I’ve never had a place that fit that role.

I had shelter,

but privacy was a luxury,

and violently I faced recovery.

That day still lives within me.

The me that’s detached,

twice in fact,

ever since he

kicked me out.