Send the truck, you're moving

It's as though
when we split our possessions down the middle
split the money down the middle
split our friends down the middle
We will split ourselves
Down the middle

And I don't lay claim to any part of you
that existed before
but only that of after me.
I lay firm claim to half.
And I don't pursue any of you that
exists beyond me,
without me...
But only whilst we
were us

And that is halved -
and I will own it.

And it is mine to sell
at auction...
or it is mine to
spit on and rub in the dirt.
It is mine to raise a life on,
or mine to preserve
in a resin tomb

And you may not have that.
(not even half of that)

Do what you must with yours
I care not of that which you own, now
Except for the exception
of halving your half
and halving that half
and then, halving
that half

Until I am left clutching
the splintered pieces of halves
and crying
over spilt milk..
And knowing
That I can halve the half
Of mine and yours
and what I own and you do too
Until there is
only half left
And feel as if I don't own a thing.

And I can never lay claim..
the intangibility of ownership
leaving a bitter taste in my mouth
like the backwash of vomit
you left
after the last binge
(half of which was yours)

And I'll split myself
in two and in two and in two
and you can pick and choose
leave the fault lines to the
natural disasters,
Lick the rust from the crack
in the walls
(half of which is mine)

And it will be as though
we split the memories in two
And the dichotomy will sicken me
the reflection witholding
shard into the uneven pieces

Delivery address will follow :
You still owe me my half.