The home delusion

I'm not home, this is assylum. This is rehab. 

I get visitors sometimes, but they're all addicts. They shouldn't let them in.

I'm detoxing my womb, I'm cleansing that which housed a girl. She was always only just visiting, a passer by, I mistook it for residency. I made oh so many changes for it. Now the guest is gone, time for deep cleaning, and cleansing. 

I'm bleeding, not like my usual anymore, I bleed and cry, the blood is thick and chunky and thin and gooey and runny. The tears are just the same. And the heart, has no option but to go through the notions. Will it take me till the end of this journey or not, I must find out in time. 

Alas, there is plenty of time left it seems.

This slobbering up has been some journey. 

I stopped the pleading. 

Only just my soul does... 

Quite in the darkness of the nights, early in the earliest hours of dawn...
"Get me out of here, get me home, please, take me home. I'm done, it's done, won't you please. 

Just 

Take 

Me 

.... Home."

And then I pray some more, and then I write my prayers down, and then I sleep, and I dream, of her and them, all of the visitors, all of the guests, all of the unconscious druggies, bullies, sociopaths and narcissists. 

I've done my dues, won't you please, let me out.

Amen 

Amen 

Amen 

Thank you, 

Thank you.