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The impulse races through my amygdala with my synapses triggering a response of pleasure as I hear your name, as pathetic as Pavlov's dog, but this dog is rabid now, because you bit it too hard and the poison set in is throbbing through my veins, in my temples, making me aware of them, like you are of the veins in your arms, but for vastly different reasons.
You scratch my back and I scratch yours. But it scorches me now like a nightmare, as your claws of deception sear my back and try to rip my soul out of my being. Those cleverly placed silken blindfolds tied so gently around my eyes that I didn't even feel them till you ripped them off, and blinded me by the light of truth, bitterly burning. I've been muted into incoherence, with every articulation reduced into some alien psychobabble that gets stuck in my throat. A plaintive cry, as I choke helplessly in speechlessness. I've been transmogrified into a something I can't claim as my own being. In the mirror, I see my visage but it transcended the person I was into an apparition that slips every attempt to bind it into reality. Now I know there is no reality other than this and no happiness other than mine. You may have won the battle, but I won the war and I lord over the spoils that are mine and mine alone... And I know you will try to find your way back under my skin again. I know that the knocking in the night, is yours and you try to weave your self back into my life with the web of deception, dragging me down into a vortex from where there is no return. I stopped struggling against the tide a long time ago. The shackles lie beside my feet, every chain a reminder of the moments I spent tied down to an image that was alluring in its surrealism. It was a lonely walk, deep into an abyss that beckoned like a black hole, a fallen star. It's pouring outside. My own eyes are dry. I know the world weeps for the tragedy... the death of a dream.
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