Tired, so tired. I have been here before. Broken and lost. No words, no thoughts of my own. Just slowing down like grinding metal.
This is when something takes over. The inner self I have no wish to control, even if I had the strength to.
It never fails me. It saves me. It keeps me.
It is neither good nor bad. It is both blindly loyal and heartlessly indifferent.
I crawl to it like my life depended on it. Reach for it far from within the dark. I never reach it, but it does reach me.
A hand pierces my anguish and grabs my own with gentle strength. It does not hurt. It feels warm...but is cold to my touch.
I rise slowly as it lifts me to its chest. Pressing me closely and embracing me. Its like a mother, yet I am like a bridesgroom and a child to it.
I am always so in love when it saves me. When it breaks the layers of pain and heaped upon torment.
Its beautiful, powerful, and loving. I only see it when I am ugly, weak and filled with rage.
I am always broken, always shattered and lost, but it always finds all of me worth saving.
I could cry thinking about it. I am often alone without it. Few in this world reach me like this non-thing does. This figment of my imagination.
A power like a talent I summon when all I am is absent, an instinct triggered by the fear I hate.
I always return to the abyss it saves me from. I run into the void cursing and flailing against it. I am ready to die each time, and I do in a way.
Not all of me survives. I lose something in the emptiness everytime that I never get back.
This saving grace always fills my emptied heart and soul with something of...hers.
Pours light into my core and ignites my passions, my souls righteous flame.
Its always this way, and this is how and why I love. I hate the fear....and so does...she.
I will always face it, die and be reborn. It is our way. It is how I can live, the only way.
I must fight and die or just die.
The death saves me. It is harder each time, but I am stronger before and weaker after in greater measure. In geater measure do I hate it. In greater
measure do I love when restored.
I know not where this ends or even if it does.
I only see the cycle and it encourages me to continue....to be.
edit on 9 3 2016 by tadaman because: (no reason given)