Pisaries Creator

I will find you and you will not allow me to die. Give me the weight you carry. Put it on my shoulders and let me be heavy. This can become a two-way street but currently it is only one. We can benefit from each other. You will not be disappointed in me. You will learn from your denial of me, and we can be as many as we like. No matter how much you protest against me, I will around. We can marinate in this stink and fight against our common enemy.

Let’s not eat our feelings kernel by kernel. Down the throat our emotions go and find a home. Where they end up, no one knows. No one really knows anything because this seems like a dream between us. One giant, long dream with people no longer living among us. This is a different universe. The clock never matches up to my time accordingly. My maker has destroyed my poor baby piece by piece. There is no putting her back together. Her spirt has been flushed down the toilet like unused paper.

The smell of blood lingering comes from a place of a youthful past. A time when my fingers could hold down all my problems with ease. I am looking at myself in the mirror, captured by my own thoughts and held prisoner by the own actions. We look different just enough to allow for a decent explanation. You tell me a secret of my existence and the answer remains in the silence with the praying mantis. I want to be unseen with no one helping me. This is how we will be until the next time someone comes to rescue us.