It has to be said for there is no way

to hide it,

you make me feel invisible, imaginary,

that when you close your eyes at night

or look away at the rain in a far off county,

to you I have become the person you once

dreamed of, slowly dissipating into thin

noxious air, gassed and slumped over

for your amusement and only then do

you poke me in the eye via a spiky bark-less

tree limb, poke me in the guts and praise

the gods that I am still; invisible