Life has a way of fighting itself, for better or worse.
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,
Into mind's bed.
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,
Into mind's bed.
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 response to my own. Some entities have communicated a great deal and Nissandra is one such entity.
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. Though I had not realized who or what she was until only recently. Nissandra has always been the target to my focus, she gives me clarity through the chaos. Often times, when the universe has erupted into sheer pandemonium, she will be the current that guides me, 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 tends to be there for me when I can't be there for myself, or when Truence isn't around. There is no easy way to define Truence, whatever he is, but he is duty bound to me, whether he likes it or not. Truence hasn't always had 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. Often times, I simply yield control because the pain and suffering are too great, or the situation calls for something more. It isn't an unsettling experience, being in the backseat, not anymore. Truence pulled the trigger that saved my life, but he also cursed the person I was protecting. I don't know what he wants or why, but I trust him, for all his faults and maleficence. Worse than him, are the consequences of his presence, as the simple conflict of his existence has been enough to challenge my sanity, my mind, and everything I experience. Truence, while having been the voice and will to fight, laughs at my inability to prove his presence.
It's rushing me,
Take the lead,
Don't bury deep,
What you have seen.
'Tis something we
Must set free.
Or we will be
It's rushing me,
The thought prevails,
We aren't meant to be.
When we choose
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.
America the great,
America the free,
How can I sit here and say nothing when ya'll can't shut yo mouths?
Especially when you preaching freedom from the safety of yo house?
Step outside your CZ and try that bull shit tout,
Rude awakenings and honesty is what we're all about.
Cause if you linger longer and you catch us spittin' free
You'll hear what the world around us is failing to see.
Kids in cages, their parents confused,
Kids for ages, at war with no clue.
Religion rages while sciences lose.
This congress in office, is America's noose.
An oligarchy in hiding, plays it's own ruse.
An economy bent on keeping this truth.
Letting only emotions guide us through.
Morality by the door with our shoes.
Setting aside all our time for our personal muse,
While we claiming we try,
When we give nothing of use.
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,
And I try to allow him some time to begin,
But I can't see a way out
And I can't see 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 our children, all said and done.
Will they be left with options?
Will they behave be like us now?
Will they break this cycle?
Or will they already be drowned?
It's the hope of the streets,
Of the sick and the weak,
That this world sees the meek
And what they rightfully need.
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.
Look, Look there!
Can you see it?
The vacuous well,
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.
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, left for the next user.
Elegy of Emptiness
ap - a - thy
Joy is a farce,
To be sad, too
It betrays me,
It berates me.
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.
"It's so petty."
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?
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.
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.
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 a parent 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 façade -
We see into the time ahead,
And how restraint from love,
Might eternally keep us dead.
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.
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.
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,
Experience grants clarity.
Together challenge the feeling,
Facing fear, facing pain,
Display your bravery.
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...
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 facts to life,
Have not inundated us.
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,
I allow a flicker of thought,
A moment of tribulation,
To the forever encumbered,
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.
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.
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.
I see it now, our endeavor.
Dreams and aspiration,
Desire and adoration,
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.
Solemn adoration 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.
Culminating within, beget my demons forward
And hasten to me, an adjournment in peace.
With flow and volume
these passing breaths,
To face what comes next.
It will not be pleasure,
To bleed never is,
Pain will not persist.
Made sure to be ready,
It begins to deterge,
As fire begins to surge.
Surging on fine lines,
It's energy courses,
To bare painful forces.
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.
The Abyssal Vacuum
When she told me to trust you, she clearly made a mistake. How can I trust someone that refuses to reveal themselves to me? The veil you hide behind, while I shred mine before you, does not reaffirm her guidance; guidance that appears to have been misinterpreted, or simply wrong. This has become clear to me, as you forgo even the illusion of sentiment before me with the manners in which your soul entangles with others, and refrains from mine. Whatever reasoning encourages you to exclude me from your soul's engagements need not concern me or my discernment; the fact that the apathy bestowed upon my affection is the most insulting thing one can do for someone granting their trust, especially given it's sacredness from the person giving it should already be known by the type of person you claim to be. How can you communicate the acceptance and return of affection, only to yield none? If you were of similar spirit, you would know that such indignant behavior is intolerable, yet it is the correlated response you continue.
When she encouraged me to trust you, I was vulnerable:
In my mind, I was in a labyrinth, lost and confused, though my body continued to risk traversing reality. The vessel continued onward, caught in a biological process I was unable to overwrite. The process, the simple act of walking forward, was unobstructed by the maze I was roaming; nor was the process of sight, as I saw the reality I was in, but I also saw the reality I was suspended in. Towering walls of grey, each turn revealing more questions and more sacrifice, I stumbled through the misty halls. The lonely abandon of all the lost and forsaken love commanded my fear issuing waves of desperate heaves for something to clear the head and escape the nightmare. Instead, exhaustion settled in more and more, with each breath of air. Weariness and more fear, terrifying doubt for my mind. There, alone on my knees, she beckoned me to her. She swept me to the labyrinth's end, but before revealing it, she left me with her words of guidance, "Trust her." I knew whom she referred to, and she repeated, "Trust her." She left me there, awestruck and wanting. I looked for her, but she was gone. I left the labyrinth, and returned to my cold pool where I could sense the conscious reality around me. Relieved to have escaped, and with you on my mind, I basked in my gratitude and promised her that I would heed her guidance. I trusted you, in hopes to never return to that labyrinth. I have come to realize, however, the necessity of that labyrinth and it's influence on my fears. I walked between the walls of doubt and envy, and I did not find the exit. I was plucked from the nightmare and saved. While grateful, I find myself forlorn once again and see the coming labyrinth on the horizon, a distant but promised obstacle.
In truth, I refuse to keep this conduit for you, I refuse to keep channeling the connection. You siphon from me, the very anti-affection you need to preserve your affection for another. The attention I offer is welcome and wanted, but the giver is not. You have used both spirit and vessel for the spirit's attention, and haven't the courage to admit you won't return it. Planting your temporary claim, a conduit to your own soul's energy. I knew you needed the energy, though I had not realized you would not offer your own when I allowed such access. While I would gladly give you the desires you reserve for such a soul as mine, I have to know it isn't simply borrowed love, unrequited and temporary.
As I sat here, quivering in agony from back pain, the onslaught of a migraine, and the stress of realities current demands, I reached out for the energy I needed and you did not respond. The request rang out in plea, but you just stood there, useless and full of pity.