I'm in a relationship with myself Walking alone on a ticking clock Improvising only to disappoint Existing to be invisible. People who came and left Took a piece of me I am now a matrix of crumbs Bet I'm about to constellate I self quarrel on a gloomy day Still battling an overdose Of between depression and Mirtazapines Both kills me anyway I will be in a relationship with myself Not because there is no one left to But because I am jaded with the inevitable Death now is but a random blur Will this solitude give me the cure?