You and your brothers mused;
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Especially him -
About solving problems
And trouble shooting
And thinking outside the box.
You watched black and white movies
With the endings cut off -
Because many bootleg copies
Suffered from the distraction of her endless doctrines
And she forgot to skip the commercials.
How was I to know -
When you mused about the movie “Gaslight”
That your sociopathic pen
Was scribbling frantic notes
That you would later engage?
Remember “Arsenic and Old lace?”
Where the sweet, trustworthy faces of old women
Lured victims of their schemes,
And buried bodies in the basement
Without a suspicious eye falling upon them?
Oh, how you loved to watch “Hamlet”
And sit beneath the tutorship of good King Claudius:
“With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,--
O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce!--won to his shameful lust”
Even now, the good and witless victims
Fall prey to your busy manipulations;
The teachers, attorneys and judges,
Our children and your new spouse.
How lucky; their priceless gift of naivety.
My wrists are shackled by the sheer insanity
Of my experiences at your hands.
Who could - without so vile a shared experience
Entertain such warped realities?
So, I’m muffled by your witchcraft. I sit and smile in silence.
And you are free
To bury bodies in the basement still.
Like your two brothers, who disposed of wives
When newer interests loomed;
So skillfully Gas Light-ing them.
How blessed I was to finally see it
So I wouldn't join them,
In the white corridors of the asylum -
Painting medicated pictures.
You almost had me convinced.
I have every reason to celebrate
That I am alive,
That I am good,
That I will never cower in the presence of my creator…
That I am not you.
Here, I share, with stark honesty, my life.