Day in

Day out

Night in

Night out

Breathe in

Breath out

You're in

I'm out

Foot in

Foot out

I'm in

You're out

This is the way of it

This is the way it has been

However I'm not

As you know

Much of a fan of--

What's the word--

Routine--

Or perhaps the concept 

That I'm afraid of

That perplexes me

Would be better described

Under the very much umbrella term:

Consistency

Honestly, the breadth of it confounds me

I have never been one for

Repetition

Apparently

For some, perhaps you,

That is a weakness

Or maybe a blight

Or even a slight 

Against you

And your bloodline

For me

It is the way that I live

I wake up 

When the sun is down

When the sun is peeking out

When the sun is high in the sky

When the sun is setting

To me, the irregularity of it all,

Is very much regular

More regular than, say,

The sun rising and setting each day

But, just like philosophers contend that

Perhaps the sun rising and setting is not a constant

That one day the sun may leave and never return

That perhaps the scientists aren't so scientific after all

Despite their methods and practice and hemming and hawing

Once in a blue moon, consistency doesn't seem so foreign

In the case of you, 

I settled into quite the routine, actually

Now whether that routine was to my detriment is still being studied

There are several schools of thought that I ascribe to when it comes to You

All of them within me, of course,

But all of them quite divided and capable of standing on their own

What wasn't capable of standing, however, was the two of us

No, we weren't very capable of standing at all 

A construction project cobbled together by amateurs

You took the pieces of myself and yourself and attempted--

Quite well, some may contend--

To meld them

Or perhaps stack them atop one another

To me, it makes no difference

To me, all I know is that, suddenly, I was not myself at all

Instead, I was some monstrous amalgamation 

Containing myself and some foreign host

One that caused me to creak and groan and become unsteady

Like a house that never settles

Like the sickly shifting between seasons

Not quite one, not quite the other

Not quite anything at all

But I took it all as it came to me

New, exciting, surprising, ever-changing 

This state of being

Though foreign and obscene

Did not bring me pause

I allowed myself to shift and reassemble

Pieces swapped and so very interchangeable

But an individual without a hardy constitution cannot survive

Out in this great big world that we claim is ours

And I was constituted of everything and nothing

And I certainly couldn't claim anything as my own

After all, was I even something capable of claiming or thinking

So, it became apparent to me,

I had to change or die, 

And if that meant depriving you of the host, foundation, what-have-you

That was my corporal being

And leaving you to fend for yourself in the great unknown

Then so be it

Please

Know that it isn't personal

Know that I never meant to go back on my promises 

Know that I should've never made them in the first place

Know that I understand what I am, or at least I say I do now

Know that now I see all that I am, for better or worse

Know that I hope you've had the same clarity for yourself

Know that I think about the pieces of you that I once contained

Know that I worry that I will never be cleansed of the remnants of your invasion 

Know that I'm leaving My Hell behind, and I wish that you may escape too