Me, Myself, and My Vertebrae Blues

The presumptuous bend
of an obligated story
has held my hand
and broke our bounty.
The immediate rush of
all our luck has
subjected you to
conjunctivitis.
Your eyes protrude a
luminosity that sets my
horseshoes blazing with fire.
And you hand me the bottle of glue
to sniff and get high
while your eyes become more
engrossed with pain and slime
I cannot look at you.
Yet, we are a team so
I am with you.
Even if you are the heavy
harmony that burdens my back,
I shall carry you through and
through torments of lonely nights.
The mornings are intimidating
and we face them together.
Huge wasps lurking behind
tree leaves slippery with dew,
the sun has yet to dry away
the comfortable moisture.
I remember why I came to
be the rescuer of recursed demons,
the troubleshooter of miscommunication,
the longitude studies of the
misrepresented clans of New England,
and the imaginary priestess of my
lepidoptera friends...
we revolve around the temporary light
within other souls.
We are attracted to the melancholy of
uncertainty and exchange that
for  shallow fun times.
I know you, the answer that grows
invisibly upon my back, because I
have dealt with you and ignored you.
And this has gone on long enough.
It has been so long,
I might give up again.