The Man Possessed

The coffee mug, the coffee mug, the god damn coffee mug.I stare intently to the black mug filled with cold caffeinated sludge. The tearful, fog of anger swirls about. What is the problem? What is the cause? What is going on? It is the anger? The anger I cannot get out. The anger that is caught between my brain and my tongue. A great battle to keep it in limbo. Do not show it, do not let it out. Tears of joy? Tears of anger? What am I angry about? I want to punch something I want to scream but that is not what I supposed to do. I am to express myself but that is not my place. I do nothing to appear normal. I show nothing to appear brave. I am a volcano, an earthquake, something gone terribly wrong. I've thought so since I could remember. I'd been told that since the day I was born. 
This room is empty even when there are three people in here. Are there two ghosts and one person or are there two people and one ghost? I still eat, sleep, drink but still the mystery. I try to walk through them but I bump into them. They do not notice me and continue to walk and. Who are these people? I try to speak to them but they will not respond. I try to ignore them but they know I am here. I try to sit with them but they stare off into space. I try to grab them but their cold arms peel away. I try to yell and scream but they cannot hear. I am to scared to tell them to leave, but I cannot. It is because I love them. Love them for all of my heart, but they still will never see. I pick up after them, the toys and the pictures and the paintings. I do their dishes and take out their trash. Sometimes they let me fall asleep with them. In their dreams they hold me until they are awake. They bite and tickle me sometimes when they do notice me. I am left scarred and smiling hoping for the next time they see me. I leave notes for them sometimes on the walls and on the floor. The little one sees them sometimes but the other one tells it not to mind. I follow them outside sometimes, I try to hold their hands but they let go after a little bit. We swing on the swing sets then leave me alone. They go running off but I cannot follow them. I search and search and always give up. I go home alone but they come back after some time. At night I hope they disappear but they don't. They pray at night for me to leave, but I won't. I read the story of Sisyphus aloud sometimes and realize the joke of it all. I go out by myself now giving them time to leave but they are always there when I return. They pour salt around their beds so I cannot be held by them. "Then I'm the ghost" I realize. Finally I leave a note on the floor. "It's you or me." The little one sees it and tells the other one. It lets out a loud sigh. "If we must." It responds. They leave the salt on the table that night and they held me. I woke up the next day and they were gone. The fog and anger were gone but also a sense of purpose. "Now I have nothing" I replied. I never returned home again after that. "I wonder if I'll find them again"? Whistling and chirping down the road. The wind kicking dirt and spinning it. "Time will tell."