it's almost clinical the way we relate human nature to our own misfortunes. there is self-absorbed pain as evidence that this mutilation of the embodied anticipation has decided to self-destruct. this is no game show. the wrong answers can mean life or death. it's not a hard choice to but it's one you need to make all the same. and no antinomy will save you from defamation - the cards are stacked against you. the catastasis of yr life; biotically inviting, the ink from yr pens write out a one-act tragedy. and you play all the parts with a displaced pride: the cynic, the antagonist, the protagonist, the hero (MY HERO), the villain. you were a one man army. obliterating everything and everyone in yr way. take no prisoners. spoken like a true soldier. except, my love, you did take a captive: my heart. you pillaged my insides, made a mess of me and never looked back. the robbery of romance. thief. give me back what is mine. that pulse does not belong to you. not anymore. from now on, the distance between my love and yr teeth will grow with every passing second. so when the lights dim and you begin calling my name in a broken reverie, just remember that it was yr idea to plunder and take by force that which had already been given to you out of love.

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