Dehumanize Depersonalize

Any attempt I make at forcing the bullet train like thoughts in my mind, using only my mind, is a failure from the beginning. Hiding your blood soaked hands, using only your blood soaked hands to cover them. A constant drip drip drip as you stain the ground beneath you with disease and distaste, never leaving it quite the same no matter how much you scrub. Without instinct, how many wells and ditches do you think would be filled to the brim with shoe box sized corpses? I do not enjoy "things" at all, but rather I enjoy situations and feelings. Stripped of all things that blind, the veil that passes over all eyes making an eternal night that so many cannot seem to navigate. Those who see at night, their eyes see past the gyrating hips, spilled drinks, loud music, warm/cold embraces, and that look which pierces nothing. Look deeper into the darkness, the figures will take shape the steadier your gaze. Past the dancing, drinking, flashing lights, sexual tension, and smoke and mirrors a scene of communion and group sacrifice will materialize. 

I'm never living my own life, I watch the part played out by a Fool who will not listen to my cries of concern and advice from the front row while the Second Act takes time to get off the ground. Never within myself. I watch as the Fool lets some nice Girl, who deserves more genuine attention, position herself and move around on top of him. Never within myself. I'm never there, in that moment I want to ask if She'd like to role play. "Just for this moment and situation would you like to pretend that we Love each other?" I have faked pleasure, I've faked passion, I've faked interest, even my attention to the situation at hand is just a facade. My mind always somewhere else. Never within myself. I have never faked Love. 

A conversation with a former Lover, discussing beauty and our Love. Walking through a museum of what we once had. Visiting each exhibit, discussing it fully until we're satisfied or much too upset to continue the tour. We only allow ourself to visit the art that hangs in this sad hollow building, never owning any of it. 

"You see, I'm not so worried about finding someone who 'Loves me' necessarily. I'm worried about finding someone who will Love me and denounce any Love they had in the past. Someone who will tell me they've never Loved anyone like they do me and perhaps it wasn't Love at all. I have to be the center of their universe or nothing at all and I know this is so incredibly fucked up and unrealistic and impossible. That's why I'm worried, because I know I could never find someone that cruel and who would Love me. Then of course the entire time I'd be concerned that if we move on, will she denounce my Love to some other guy? It's all very troubling to me honestly and I'm not sure what to do about it."

How many times has someone told me they're worried about me?

How many times more do they actually worry?

How many less?

I'm never within myself.