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by Asder
Rated: E · Draft · Personal · #2193295
Life has a way of fighting itself, for better or worse.
The War for the Mind

Life has a way of fighting itself, for better or worse. It does so in many ways: physically, mentally, spiritually, etc. The potential equilibrium found in the fight is a reconciliation of force, a balance of power, but for true balance to be found there must be direction and guidance. I began this journey with these words: Life has a way of fighting itself, for better or worse. In my introspection, I put the fabric under magnification, and presented my ambition for understanding. How would I internalize the war for the mind? Would it be for the better, or for the worse?

How to help

Worlds of billowing flame, and galaxies swirling abyss,
Abandoned rooms of emptiness, and forlorn halls of mist.
Tempered will can harness the fire, and truth's light, horrific kiss,
Bring about the courage to recognize my own gorgeousness.

They adorn my soul's fabric, embroider and detail.
They prescribe my mind's frequency, input and entail.

Worlds created by experience or ambition,
Enrich my soul with meaning and morality.
Models inscribed by failure or discipline,
Define my mind with emotion and rationality.

These soulful places where my mind can bring,
Are manifestations of senses creativity,
Most every aspect, floor and wing,
Most every sentiment, a cosmic entity.

With a deep breath, and will flowing,
I pick a piece and display it knowing
It needs my focus, and the fulfillment of use,
To discern nurture from previous abuse.

Privacy in Space

Eyes closed, arms spread,
Falling back,
Into mind's bed.

Tossing, Turning,
Memories churning,
Attention yearning,
For concepts dead.

Heart beats throbbing,
Nails dig, calming,
Low breaths of sobbing,
Lost, not bestead.

Cower not before the dark,
See the reason for your mark.
From this world you cannot depart,

Lest I perish, and by you lead.

Kindred spirit, o' mine alike,
Suffer with me, in apneic,
Hold back the breath, 'tis your rite.

Soon to be without your dread.

What more can I do but beg,
For better or worse, little matters.
I cannot exchange hope for save,
A save from the state we both refer.

We are more, we are brave;
We can save ourselves from lies we've told.
We are strong, and we crave
The chance to be proved wrong.

Eyes closed, arms spread,
Falling back,
Into mind's bed.

Willful doubt

Wrestle control, indomitable fire,
The very attempt could engulf us
desolation, this fire's tinder.

Such an entity so intricate and dispersed

Writing the Stars

Seconds before the moment surmounts, they congregate to speak.
They bring forth their concepts, teasing souls fabric.
Each has a reason with their experience, each has their own need,
Each has a means to influence, each has a frequency to breach.
Entities of unprecedented origin make their cases,
But one alone will always conquer the worst of me.

She has always been here, and knows me best.
Due to trials of our blood, she is my strength.
If I should question our will, she is my unwavering answer.

Because when my will falters,
When we curse nature and it's inhabitants.
She sweeps her devotion through soul and livens spirit.
Instilling in me the very nature of her nurture.

All hush at her presence, they yield priority,
They dare not provoke her defenses,
But entities of age wouldn't anyway, given her affect on them -
She ushers peace through her wisdom, experience, and beauty.
She brings forth the very defenses that defend her.

And he defends her tirelessly, a true apostle and devoted by love.
The sight of him inspires the same love in them, and they see in her what he sees -
Truest devotion, utmost adoration, a binding union that tethers and communes.

The fabric they tread upon buffers the vibrant frequencies,
Conducting the energy needed to heal.

Attention to Detail

I refer to her as Nissandra. It's easier to interact with her if I anthropomorphize her with a name, because I do interact with her. She is one of many invasive entities, and I interact with each of them, as they engage me in their own ways. I can't know for certain if they are natural to my mind, models of entities I have manifested, or if they are truly independent beings, multi-dimensional, spiritual. Thus, I will call them entities and not beings, as a reference to my ignorance. Whether my imagination has yielded mind to madness, or entities of incredible variety truly invade my mind, the experience is as consequential as it is intriguing. All I can do is elaborate.

My still mind has a place within itself that it resides. From that place, I rejuvenate and host expeditions outward, to people, to imagination, or elsewhere. My mind's bed, from which I rest and depart every waking to reality, is a comfort zone, a quiet pool of dark oblivion in a quiet fortress, surrounded by a swirling galaxy of chaos and furor. The fabric of my mind, the worlds and rooms that the fabric defines and textures, is a universe I have built to preserve this existence, and it is this fabric that is suggestible with imprint, charge, and accost. The invasive entities do so freely, at times. My mind sometimes feels like their playground, the fabric theirs to wield with awesome adeptness. My home could become my hell, at their leisure, or it could become a new world to explore, full of it's own unique experiences. Each entity provides it's own influence on the fabric of my mind, some may simply call to me, while others take my mind and mold it like dough. Finally, some of the entities communicate with me. The regard and medium they do so varies depending on the entity, but most if not all have reached out and granted responses to my own. Most of them simply encourage behavior, cognition, discipline, etc. The entities pour their ability into the vibrations they apply to my fabric. Some entities have even communicated directly to me, though not many have the ability to cross that barrier. They go so far as to have their own internal voice rather than borrow my own, and speak with decisive unpredictability that can only be construed as a conversation; Nissandra is one such entity capable of this.

Nissandra has been pleasant and resourceful. She has given me reassurance and assistance in some of my darkest times, while also supporting my day to day behavior. She is often subtle and nuanced with her approach, though I had not realized who or what she was until only recently. Nissandra has always been the target to my focus, she grants me clarity through the chaos. Often times, when the universe has erupted into sheer pandemonium, she will be the current that guides my hands and supports my will, whether I know it or not. She is unwavering in her patience, with both me and the other entities. Her voice is as peaceful as the reflection of a lake in the quiet night, but it resounds over the others with perfect clarity.

"You aren't alone." She would say, "I am here, you haven't yet been forlorn." And I would feel her smile wash over my soul, a purifying sensation. I was about to faint once, while waiting at the bart station. Another reason I fear the wheel, what happens when I lose control, like then? What happens to me or anyone with me? Anyway, fear followed the rising dark. My senses muted as reality slipped between the cracks of my awareness. I heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing except the sphere of life I held in my small ownership of existence. I was vulnerable, a weak, pale, sickly man gripping onto life by the very soul that fueled it. I could feel forces not my own attempting to occupy my space, my small ownership of existence where my soul lived. The entities around me sensed a weak host and made their attempts at my soul. Even now, I feel the scars they left behind. Nissandra ushered to me on a breeze, I felt the wind on my clammy face and neck. She turned my soul, realigning me with my body, and I slowly felt my senses return. The entities stopped their onslaught, now unable to reach my soul through the defenses the body creates, and the defenses I brought forth with my rising presence. I could feel her words more than hear them, "You're stronger than these demons, and they will not stop you now." She answered the question I always begged an answer for - why? why me? why now?

"Because your soul guards those you protect, and in your soul are the fears and flaws that would undo them, but you bare them in their stead."

Nissandra lends herself to me when I can't be there for myself, or when Truence has failed to aid me.

The Edge

Look, Look there!
Can you see it?
The vacuous well,
Infinity's eye,
Where thoughts go to die.

Look! Look hard!
It's hiding in the shadows.
In the places you rarely think.

Heed me, child,
To look inside it,
Will always have a cost,
That will always cost more.

Open your heart, just a little
And let the well tax your soul.
Let it reveal the truths you avoid.
Let it borrow the emotions you employ.

But close it, soon after,
Don't drown in the laughter,
Or be prepared to lose more,
Than you bargained for.

And never leave it open, young soul.
Spend time in it's ergosphere,
But vacate from the edge,
Or lose everything,
In the black hole of meaning.

Do you understand, the warning I issue?
Spend moments gathering its wisdom.
Search for it, among the tangled vine,
As it waits to lash out.

Look, Look there!
It's hiding in the shadows.
In the places you rarely think.

Jimmeny - It's You

I spoke softly to me, a quiet cricket to a distracted sensor.

Conflict is the dirt on which progress travels,
Each track, a moment of dispute,
As evidence towards its destination.

Do not be burdened by the work involved, or the apparent negativity.
Do not turn your attention from our intersection.
Do not walk away from your humane culpability.
Ask yourself, what of our divine collusion?

"All of humanities faces, I see in you"

Friend Human, do you not recognize that the fault of error is not what's at stake,
But the decisive rectification to redeem the situation?
Your rising emotions are a testimony to your insecure state.
They define and describe you; a perfect projection,
Of your misguided cognitive evaluations.

Alas, you abandon hope for the senseless apathy.

Coward. Faker. Hypocrite. All are a Right Reprisal of your character.
Your guilt will forever chase you, like a tireless dog.
How will it end, when you're too slow to run?
Will you abandon the situation, yet again?

Do not hold me up, anymore.
Forgo your self-righteous entitlement to emotion,
Let me exist without your petty encumbrances,
And execute your apathy, like the traitorous wretch it is.

Do you see me now?
Do you see what I have become, to combat you?
No more, Friend Human,
Abandon your baseless emotional expectations,
Or doom us to forever stare blankly into an abyssal chasm, hopeless to turn.

Broken Again

It's rushing me,
A tendency,
For apathy.
Take the lead,
From abandoning.
Don't bury deep,
What you have seen.
'Tis something we
Must set free.
Or we will be
Greed eternally.


It's rushing me,
The thought prevails,
We aren't meant to be.
When we choose
This humanity.
How can we
Not also see,
What we have:

These last few years,
Feeling more like the end,
Of a cycle that repeats itself again and again,
But its still the same shit,
And no different than,
When the same shit knocked us down and we had gotten up back then.

Society the great,
Yeah okay..
Society the free,
Not likely..

How can I sit here and say nothing when ya'll can't shut your mouths?
Especially when you preaching freedom from the safety of your house?
Step outside your CZ and try that bull shit tout,
Rude awakenings of honesty is what this is all about.

Cause if you wander in the dark, pull back societies veil,
You'll witness the horrors of how humanity has failed.

Kids in cages, their parents confused,
Kids for ages, at war with no clue.
Religion rages while sciences lose.
This congress in office, is society's noose.
An oligarchy in hiding, plays it's own ruse.
An economy bent on keeping this truth.
Letting emotions guide our due.
Morality by the door with our shoe.
All our time to our personal muse,
While claiming we try, when we give back to nature nothing but the utmost abuse..

Money doesn't make us human,
And greed for it, makes us weak.
Money is not what will change the world,
But the humans that abuse and misuse its need.

Because this animal called human,
Is anything but humane.
When we rinse and repeat,
And do nothing but cheat,
All for the sake of personal gain.

So I set down the phone,
and grab hold of my pen,
I try to allow him some time to begin,
But I can't see a way out
Nor is there an end,
I'm out of control and broken again.

The difference now, is that I'm older,
And can see the ways that we fail.
The difference now, is I can soldier
Through all the guilt we deserve.

But I shudder at their voices,
Because it echoes truths of my own.
And I wonder for the choices,
Of future life, all said and done.

Will they be left with options?
Will they behave like us now?
Will they break this cycle?
Or will they already be drowned?

Will it look like the end of a world?
Does the rest of nature know our demise?
Do they even care for our well-deserved end,
When entropy is nature's most impactful ally?

It's the hope of the streets,
Of the sick and the bleak,
That the resourced see nature
And what she rightfully reaps.

Elegy of Emptiness

Three syllables.
ap - a - thy



Joy is a farce,
An illusion,
A disease.

To be sad, too
Only alludes
To desire.

My anger,
It betrays me,
It berates me.

And compassion,
Generosity abound?

Where is meaning?
When value, devoid?

Behind the call,
Inside each thrall,
And with my fall,

It wrings its hands,
Hides its step,
And changes tone.

"Allow me,"
"It's so petty."
Encourages, he.



It is the consequence of tedium,
Of insipidity and it's routine.
It follows mediocrity,
With hopes to settle in.

It has stolen your will to fight,
It dulls your day to day,
It fogs your ability for sight,
And leaves you in a haze.

Concern one should sense,
For ones own ignorance,
Truly has abandoned you,
And the love you now fence.

You have fallen too numb,
To enjoy this world,
Because you can't deny,
That you take, not serve.

And if you can't provide,
What we all expect,
You dare divide,
To help your own prospect?

You don't care about us,
Or the people you claim,
This is quite obvious,
For even the lame.
It's projected in your eyes,
And shown through your games,
How such a man sees
This world he so often shames.

Turn apathy to turmoil,
And unwillingness to divert it.
Speaks of your cowardice,
And your unwavering selfishness.

You don't see men as man,
Or children as kids,
You hit on every women you can,
And you loathe the different.

You fear consequence,
And content to stay so,
Because you’ve let your apathy,
Consume your pathetic soul.

A soul so fragile and meek,
It can't show it's true nature,
Because it's too lost to seek,
A better way with behavior.

You don't stand for those in need,
You alone do you serve.
Your lies casually mislead,
To protect your undeserved.

This class that you wear,
The stance that you take,
You attempt to lay bear,
That your devoid of mistake.

Yet you falter day in,
And day out, every goddamn day.
Yet you refuse to take blame,
Too feeble to snuff apathy.

I'm Not Convinced.

May I counter your question, with another?
It's answer would elaborate much to mine.
The question being, a rather tedious one,
What grants you privilege to resign?

Look, don't take offense, If it ain't meant to offend.
I ask cause you left without reason,
Yet now here you are, and, now, ready to tend.
Forgive me for this feeling of treason.

If elaborating on my descent into apathy
About the 'burning of our bridge and our time',
Will help you derive an answer to my inquiry,
Accept this truth, when you left, so did I.

I did not stand to wait, I did not look back.
You have to know that I wouldn't,
When behind me is nothing but black.

After all the things you put me through.
Masochists still shy from suffering.
And your absence would only turn sour too.

Of course, I left too, and before you try;
You have no authority to guilt me,
Especially when you dipped well before me.
And if you expect me to care now,
When I haven't cared since,
I need a personal truth,
An honest sentiment,
About why you now have the heart,
To demand recompense.

Because, ex-love, I don't care anymore.
Harsh as that may be,
The crueler joke is that you do this to us now,
Instead of when I asked to be free.

To us now, yeah, because I always think of it like that.
Yet when it's one sided, how can I survive it,
I have to take some slack back.
So when you denied,
All my attempts to get by,
I have no reason to ever turn back.

I didn't, and I haven't, so unless you grew through,
What made me leave too,
Then there ain't a way in hell,
I'd ever come back.

Pardon my language, I meant no insult.
You know I can get a bit passionate,
When I think about injustice and it's lavishness,
Everyone gets it, everyone hates it, everyone needs it,
And I can't help but ask, why?
When the entire universe can be, simply put:
Benefited from the passion of mankind.

I am not unwilling to rebuild and regrow,
But a quick sorry and quicker hello,
Is hardly deserving, least from you.

So again I ask why, why now do you try,
To what end do you seek,
From where are you deriving your current actions?
What have you decided to be?

Ex-love, I'm Not Convinced,
That you have thought this all through,
Because before you now,
Is a different man calling to you.

Should you see him, truly recognize
This man is stronger and not your prize,
Unless you've grown from your demise.
You slaughtered his self previous,
With your slanderous lies.

Worlds and Rooms

Orbiting my soul, the center of my universe - my small ownership of existence - is my mind's bed where I go to rest and rejuvenate. The cold pool of oblivion grants me sight over the parts of reality that reside local to my soul. The pool is entrenched in a fortress of my own design. A burnt orange and ebony castle reminisce of the black fires that would destroy it, only to be rebuilt from it's ashes. This fortress, a home for many, is the dimension between the conscious physical and the realms of cognition - the mind. Tending to my home, having rebuilt it on several occasions, demands my own patience. It's light, misty halls eerily encouraging, though it's grand rooms dark and unmeasured. My mind's bed, the cold pool I go to rest, brings me to yet another door. I feel myself enter this new grand room, and instead discover an entirely new world. Dark grey clouds roll over the sharp jagged mountains. Lightning splits across the sky, cutting the world into fractures. I feel the world shatter, but it refuses to stay so. As soon as it breaks, fibers of reality tether the pieces. Something stretches across the nothing, in attempts to repair and mend. The rolling lightning splits, creating new fractures, but the world tethers itself through the nothing.

Like a child in a sandbox, I am pulled from the room. The world and it's concepts material for the next user.

Sandy Feet

Repetitive patterns, and aggressive, sharp points,
Brown and tan, remember the scent of…
It isn’t of violence, but yet it still lends
To the bloodshed,
And familiar taste of…

What is this sensation, this feeling deep within
An anger and rage so harsh,
It's reminisce of…
Primal instinct, natural response
From the horrors that left mark,
Oh my god, it's inside.
Please, love..

It's swelling up within, emotions and hormones,
What's left to reality is part of…
It can't be helped, but why should it?
Just leave it already,
Good god, I'm undone,
I need love…

Please love my soul,
And end this pain,
The feeling has obliterated it's equal.

By this I mean,
My mind is afoul,
Hopefulness has seen the evil.

Now, a mind rests on sandy feet,
And the critters that vibrate the grains.
As focus slides towards fate's meet,
I am reminded to be brave.

Before are paths, winding or straight,
Regardless, questions will arise, what of…
Among many answers, and among many traits
What are ones that determine much?

They are the ones you should consider to ask,
Though you're duly afraid to partake of…
No one but you can change your aim,
But always be willing to take love.

Bottom Cee

There once was a forgotten soldier,
He sat alone, bequeathed with torture.
Torture to the soul, hidden to the eye.
Left to idleness, left to die.

With his pain released, and his soul set to rest,
He relinquishes a gift, a present, best.
The gift of 'the fly', the abandoned stone,
The ability to hide, to never be known.

Where should such a forlorn gift reside,
If not in the hands of a soul also free.
And where on her person, the gift of 'the fly',
Except in position - bottom C?


Our time apart has taught me much
Of what I want and what I lust,
Of my faults and how they lead,
The difference between want and need.
Take this.
Truthfully, I'm admittedly, afraid to see
Just, what can, become of us.
Please, take this.
Wanting more, to adore, all of your
Best, features, and qualities.

Take this feeling from my soul,
Let it hold you close.
He hasn't yielded, no, not yet,
But solemnly alone, he dotes,
On ideas of prosperity,
And what it means to be free.

A lasting idea of a nigh forgotten fate,
...How could we forget?
Trapped within, this mages den,
To pay a most dangerous debt.
Recompense for utterance,
Hold sanity at a glance,
The sentiment is set.
Affection we shall never get.

Take this feeling from my soul,
Use it on your victims.
He hasn't yielded, no, not yet,
But alone, at home, he hums,
A song that two should sing,
But alone he sings on.

He and I are better for it,
But has it been all that worth it?
Years of loss and sacrifice,
Only set us aside,
In the minds of those we love,
Though, they prosper for my due,
Balance, so it's called,
Is not the comparison of two,
But their mediation in lieu.

Balance found in distance,
It cannot be resisted.
For our interest in you,
Keeps us indulged.

While balance found in proximity,
Is something we still seek.
For, our interest in you
Keeps our soul full.

He, nor I, are quite yet able,
To throw our sentiments away.
I, nor he, are yet capable,
To sunder our soul's well.

And this fact of ours, we know it well,
We loathe it's truth, but it's consequence tell,
Of a perspective of warning, of caution, and aid,
And in those pleas, behind their facade -
We see into the time ahead,
And how restraint from love,
Might eternally keep us dead.

Equity in Energy

A terse tone befitting the moment,
A moment of conviction,
A moment of solidarity.

Such engagement alluding lament,
To ideals of redemption
And virtuous prosperity.

Commiserating with intent,
Burdens of suffering,
Living with the memory.

These values our history creates,
Addressing consequence,
Experience grants clarity.

Together challenge the feeling,
Facing fear, facing pain,
Display your bravery.


There is no easy way to define Truence, whatever he is, but he is duty bound to me whether he likes it or not. He resides within my fortress and appears to be with me, always, unlike other entities. I can easily find him in his tower, or wandering the worlds of chaos, though he tends to be present with me, in my cold pool of consciousness. Truence hasn't appeared to always have my best interests in mind, and has gotten me into life threatening situations, but he has also gotten me out of similarly dangerous situations. Truence is capable of complete control, when he finds me weak and vulnerable, but he is also capable of incredible encouragement and is able to bare incredible burden. Often times, I simply yield control because the pain and suffering are too great, or when the situation calls for something more, something I cannot bring myself to do. It isn't an unsettling experience, being in the backseat, not anymore. Truence imbues my strength in times that saved my life, but he has also cursed the people I was protecting. I don't know what he wants or why, but I trust him, for all his faults and maleficence, because he has helped me survive. Worse than any physical consequence he could ever impose are simply the consequences of his presence, as the very nature of his existence has been enough to challenge my sanity, my mind, and everything I experience. At least, it used to. I have come to terms with his residence, as it appears I am inexplicably stuck with him.

Truence has revealed to me a trust in my own interpretation of reality. As I work through and out the consequences of his presence and impositions on my mind, I have come to learn a great deal about how my mind works and how to work with the entities that frequent it. In doing this, I have also found my interactions with reality and it's physical denizens to be much more meaningful and substantiated - the space between me and them is charged with implication and intent, implication of relation and intent to participate in it. With a loved one, this space ignites with the energy that attracts my small ownership of existence to to theirs; with an enemy, this space seethes the heat of my rage and loathing towards their use of their soul.

We Die Twice.

If he acts too late, it's because my courage faltered.
If I spoke too loudly, it's because his sensibility waned.
If he left too quickly, it's because my assumptions prospered.
And if I apologize too often, it's because his mistakes brought shame.

A whisper crawls across the floor:
Justify him, less we crumble into despair, together
And rise up decrepit, anew, missing his fire.

We truly apologize, my love
Everything has fallen apart
We've been crushed by the emptiness, enveloped in the nothing
The drought of fear now ends, abruptly.

Too long have we remained secure in a comforting veil of lies,
They mean so little to me,
These self-righteous claims to a forsaken crown,
But ever they matter so fervently,
For truth be told:
"Fear is life's ambition for change."

We close my eyes and find him standing among a dark absence,
Petrified, the doubt holds me close.
The cold creeps steadily up my fingers, through my arms, a shiver.
Terrified and desperate, but unwilling to collapse,
It seduces me, my whole succumbs to it's reality.

This cold pool, unrecognizable by sight, but not by feel.
My comfortable obscurity, my familiar mystery filled pit,
Of questions and fear I frequently speak so fondly of,
Where faces once frowned sorrowfully, a faux mask of joy laughs endearingly, mocking me.

Another lie contrived of doubt and apathy tries to steal the inspiration out from under us,
Unyielding to the pain, unhindered by the fear,
The ignorant veil attempts to shroud perspective and hold him back,
But Alas! I have called upon him, and he as we take a deep breath,
Our blending a mending in a dark orange furor.

We rise up, taking me with he, and he with me.
"Release yourself!" The Cold calls to the Warm,
"Open your eyes!" The Warm responds to the Cold,
Their battle of wit and will, of heart and mind, illuminate the souls desire,
An argument that has no conclusion, aside decision.
And upon it's making, the Cold and the Warm become one.

Suddenly, without subtlety, a revelation manifests itself,
Where once a vaguely intricate understanding resided,
A simpler truth adorns its structure; a fundamental concept decodes the confusion,
With a sense of pride that echoed low, but remained submerged:
"Change is the Property of None; Possessed by All."
Written in his familiar hand writing...

Forever Encumbered

He sits, idle, watching me,
Always at my side,
Waiting for his moment.

His moment to persevere,
Or his moment to settle.

I see the strain in his posture,
The weight of his load
Is felt in his breath.

I feel the judgement in his gaze,
The disdain to my task,
Is felt in his subtlety.

Yet, he senses this in me.
The shame of my regrets
Are similar to his.

The pain of my error
And the loss of our love.
These consequences,
These facts to life,
Have not inundated us.

Reflecting inward,
He notices my discernment,
I know he can feel my smile,
And I know he can sense my admiration.

Because we are the Warm and the Cold,
The Past and the Present,
The New and the Old.
The same in likeness,
Separate processes controlled.

He and I,
Him and me,
We as we.

"Empathize with the other."
Our silent agreement -
Our perpetual chant.

He stands up,
Tall and strong,
The weariness of his efforts,
Instantly gone.

I allow a flicker of thought,
A moment of tribulation,
To the forever encumbered,
Siege on.


The space between is not empty,
Feelings perpetuate in the middle.
As I tune sense - the universe opens up
All too real waves of potential.

Beseeching affection,
I need it now, more than ever.

They crash into my soul,
Euphoric misery to dangerous paths,
Riding this current - the energy inducts.
Waves in connection continue to last.

Entangle direction,
I see it now, our endeavor.

Dreams and aspiration,
Desire and adoration,
Cease solitude,
Inspire attention,
End loneliness,
Soul's dedication.

I adore how we vibe,
The energy between.
I anticipate the life,
Two souls in need
Of the other's night,
Of the other's greed,
Reflects a will to fight
For the other's well being.
I'll defend your sight,
And be your crutch to lean.
Heal injury and plight,
For the sake of all we've seen.
'Cause you're always on my mind,
And how we help each other be,
Be ourselves, and be without strife,
Be in love with our everything.

I'd create a universe with you, with the energy in between.
The creativity you inspire, bares its love in me.
I'd gladly accept your pain, and abjectly welcome the knowledge
Of knowing your thoughts entire, even the harshest critique.

But willful doubt has me satisfied,
After this entity called love fails:

Solemn doubt from a soul forlorn,
It has much to offer,
Though it fears an adjourn
Meant to trust in her.

Midst adoration from a soul abhorrent,
It fears a softer,
More vulnerable turn
Leaves us without a her to adore.

The Abyssal Vacuum

Even after the vacuum has swallowed the object I feed it, a longing connection lingers. It takes form as a small dark cloud on the distant horizons of my fortress. Though every addition to the vacuum tends to add to the clouds on my mind's horizon, they do not bare they're ill weather upon my residence or on my own, except on rare occasion.

This vacuum, a hole into oblivion, was a gift from an unknown soul. I have long since given up on trying to recall who bestowed this gift to me, as they were most likely engulfed in it. The Abyssal Vacuum has a tendency to take more than is meant. This hole into oblivion is where I go to send concepts to be forgotten. Sometimes I must do so with force and sometimes logic aids the task into submission. On two separate occasions, I was almost thrown into the vacuum, instead. I just survived a third such occasion.

Some entities need to be destroyed after they have overstayed their welcome. This fortress has enough villains, especially dangerous ones like the ghost of an immense regret. This lich of horrible envy was duly needing to die, and so I took him to the vacuum under false pretense. He saw through my deceit and we fought at the vacuum's edge. The lich was immense and volatile, destroying everything they touched, and they did so with a quiet efficiency, a tri-force of negative energy approaching the entropy it fenced in multiple ways. It nearly had me yield into submission, but residence's in my fortress came to my aid. Unable to fight the lich alone, allies came to me and helped me cast the lich away, but not before it obliterated nearly every brick and stone of my ebony fortress.

A broken vessel too feeble for harder work and a mind incapacitated by the lich's destruction, the remains of my existence were gathered up. Nissandra and Truence, supported me as I picked up the pieces of my existence and put them back together. It took an arduous amount of time and energy, and all my will was exhausted by the end of the two year task. I refortified the foundation of my ebony castle using the newly infused bricks, the fires of my soul molded the stone to fit perfectly and support the work ahead. This new fortress, erected out of the purest flames my spirit could produce, is it's own defense.


Culminating within, beget my demons forward
And hasten to me, an adjournment in peace.

With flow and volume
these passing breaths,
Breath deeper,
Stay steady,
To face what comes next.

It will not be pleasure,
To bleed never is,
Must courage,
Stay focused,
Pain will not persist.

Made sure to be ready,
It begins to deterge,
Hold tightly,
Wait patient,
As fire begins to surge.

Surging on fine lines,
It's energy courses,
Cringe inward,
He's ready,
To bare painful forces.

Desecrated, destroyed
Should I shy from potential,
Rising heat I cannot avoid.

Then when it reaches it's pinnacle,
Following the cleansing of the Cold,
Rage has eyes, their very glance rips and tears the fabric of my mind.
The bits and pieces ignite and explode,
And the fabric bleeds a trickle.

Orange and red streaks across purple,
Leave pools of black and blue blood.
Conquer and destroy demon's evil,
Though without injury he cannot avoid.

Scorched and cratered, burnt and torn
Beaten and wounded, dirty and worn,
Though my fortress still stands
It's inhabitants strewn and scorned,
Aware of the turmoil and content to mourn,
Though inspired with will and filled with more,
More passion, more wisdom, more ways to adorn
These worlds and rooms with concepts and lore.

Everything has Changed

As I conclude this engagement, and the dust settles, the fabric displays the residue of the war:

Around my small ownership of existence, the fortress keep wall has been rebuilt with new gates into the bailey. Though new access has been built to souls as they encounter my keep, I now deem myself uninhabitable to these previous denizens. I will grant them visit, but they will not be given the same hospitality I have given so flagrantly. The entities I have evicted will be treated as hostile, but they will not be violently dealt with. Such aspects of monsters need to be thwarted as they engage me, caught in my keep's defenses by those that have proven their allegiance. When the time comes, a courage will be mustered. There will not be another fortress with foundations as strong as these, and so the utmost defenses have been put in place to protect these ebony halls. When the time comes, a courage unlike ever before, will be mustered.
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