Talk Therapy

she asks me the standard questions:
"how are you feeling?"
well, i'm here.
"in the past month, how often has your mood drastically fluctuated?"
often.
"how are you treated at home?"
i have to think about this one
fine.

now ask me how they treat me at the place my comfortable bed is
where the woman i am supposed to call my mother
tells me everyday that i am worthless
where the woman i am supposed to depend on as a constant
threatens to leave everyday because she just "can't take this anymore"
where the people who created me and everything i am
hate me because of who i was born to be
where i've constantly thought
/i wish i could go home/
when the sign above the kitchen door tells me
that's where i already am.

my home?
that's what she asks me
i start to wonder myself

no comment.
i answer
"invalid."
she responds
politicians have it easy

i have a mother
she is the sky
a have a father
he is the core
my brothers are the flowers
and my sister are the stars
i belong to the ground and the sea and the wind

i am at home when my bare feet touch dewy green grass
the smell of the air before the rain
is my cheap nightstand candle
the sky holding a setting sun
is my wall paper
a dark cloud covering the sun
is my blanket

i am homeless.
i tell her
because how could i begin to say
the world belongs to me?