Day 58 (Almost) - I am pathetic. You are the rub.

I will box your ears in with cryptics. I will teach you your lessons. I will become what you wanted me to be...

But I am afraid of far too many things that mar my sight with sound and my touch with taste. I am awake and alive with none but above below the down away away away caromed off the corner wall and against your back to find your sight among above the sinews. Your heart and its ventricles. Your soul and its sinews. Torn all apart away from the beginning towards, but not quite, to the end. I am pathetic. You are the rub. This is the story of your pathos and its own desires to become its own pathology. I am what is worth believing in, yet you are none but the evil deeds you've succumb to once or twice in the past--the past is corrupted and yet it is what creates our very being. We are corrupt. We are all serial killers, belaboring the nightfall creationism brought on by the clouds that pull the stars away from us, sucking them out of the night to leave us feeling cold and moist around our neck as from a lover's kiss.

But I am afraid of far too many things--what more shall I say? That I don't trust you? That I don't trust the great and unattainable monolith called "God's will?" Isn't that just a copout? Why can't you control yourself and be among those that need not great unbounding grace and love and forgiveness? Why can't you just tear yourself away from your great unadulterated ways of torture and pathetics and be someone without a character that staves off others while necessitating their forgiveness? I am yours and I am lost and I am you beyond what you will ever know for every day within this universe expanding, drifting, returning, cycling about and about like our own still-life reviving. I know your name. It translates roughly to "he who knows no bounds." You are the greatness. You you And not I I though we are, quite truthfully, one and the same yet uncontrollably paradoxical. That is the rub. Aren't we the rub, then, my darling in the night time under the stars sucked dry? Stars sucked away piecemeal by cocaine-lines of grey clouds shouting and hailing that the morning is coming, the ocean isn't far off, you can leave me if you want. And go on forever knowing that I have my doubts.

But I am afraid of far too many things to pull you back towards me and hold you close against everything I've ever been taught. I've been afraid for six months on... I've known you for three years, I've known you for all of my life before the birth, before the conception, i've known you all my life and I am afraid that you will one day run away from me to become what I know you're not....