Ominous.

i stand alone engulfed in phyrric victories, and drowned in hearsay. while she relentlessly reminds me that i rest on her bosom,

And while no one plans to sleep out in the gutter, sometimes it just is the most comfortable place.

it is true, when you find you open your eyes to the ominous milieu, you taste the asphalt that had been forced upon your face. the impression the gravel left on your skin no touch of tolerance. inhaling the fumes left by the hatred and death dealings of many a cadaver. the rotting of the clear air and no rays of sunlight to replenish the flora that had already withered reflecting the feelings that have stung my insides for decades. and decades to come. but all of this found only inside the skull of a troubled mind and the gutter is laid out as planned to become home. as sanctuary for the nights that a blanket might protect from the icy wind, but would prove ineffectual; as the bones were sore and the material flesh numb from the pain. screaming inside my mind for an escape.

You're an echo vibrating off the tiled walls.

and like it i am empty and hollow. but the echoes have been quick in return as the walls have been boxing me in. closing in on my lifeless carapace when i slumber lost in whirlwinds of thought that derail me from my sanity. do you really wish to sit there so calmly and watch me twitch in my sleep? do you really wish to see me shiver and drench myself in cold sweat? do you really wish to hold my hand through this ordeal i have willed myself into surviving? and then she whispers into my ear,

I know the stillness of your emotions will shine through and the faithlessness in your eyes will glow under the stage lights and you do not belong in the spew of predetermined lines.

yes she pierces my unconsciousness and i hear her ever so clearly. her confidence in my non-existent courage has seen me overcome countless hurdles. yet i am confused as to the reason why. why do you bruise yourself and forcefully blind your sight when you feel the roughness of my palms and you know of my past misconceptions? and you adamantly pardon my naiveté? why?

Everything you do is a self-portrait. There are times it might look like St. George and the Dragon or The Rape of the Sabine Women but the words you use, they are all you.

i do not doubt thee, but your judgment.

and yet i only seek the exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.