I do not have apathy, depression, anything that would be fashionable to rant about. I am simply in pain... extreme pain. And attempting to dull the edge of it is what I have been doing since v.1. As if something has indeed been fragmented & this is the pain of my conscious life. And every time I travel the melodious/glamorous path of frenzy, every time I complete it, I am going to experience the same precious pain intensity, purity of pain/ecstasy. I am going to eventually be bound to this inmost/overwhelming awe, this vehement impulse to feel/fondle/kiss what is loved, to kneel down before it, to cuddle up to its heart, to recompense bliss with bliss... More and more. Neither the good boy nor I are free. I do not want to be free... free from... These bare feelings are โนclawingโบ at the reconstructed interpretation of the organ inside me. The great minds will not know what they have done, neither will Anthony... It speaks louder-truer than anything, but the sounds are not obvious... Words. All I possess, this rich but poor instrument for... And you always do end up in the point where...
The aesthetic masterwork, perfused with the golden brilliance of authentic ideality x pierced with the darkest blade of bitter-salty inaccessibility, inevitability, impossibility.
Excruciation, pleasure, euphoria, art. Blended together. Find yourself... or lose yourself on this journey. Emotionally. Totally. An unparalleled effect... and the lulling sparkle the vessel has never actually had. Something in this body x mind has died, and I do not know if there is a way to accept it, to recover it. I have described the lesson of unprecedentedness I have learned, not the expected story of โนinsult-betrayal-contemptโบ. No one will ever f-g hear it. Not from me, not in this lifetime. / Loving extraordinary is merciless a priori, แ/แ become telepathic... & the severest trial ~ the unhealable wound ~ is to be a ๐ son without the cause to be... *If I have to detest many donkeys for a chance to protect one venerated Father figure, I will go for it.
While I am willing to imbibe all the anguish of the human I love, to ease his suffering, the loss of us is taking its toll on me irretrievably. I see him. I see what is inside him... & I am incapable of safeguarding it, saving it truly.
I do not have apathy, depression, anything that would be fashionable to rant about. I am simply in pain... extreme pain. And attempting to put up with this gift is what I have been doing since v.1. The chest is โนcut openโบ too deep, the fragility of the organ is exposed... Would you allow me to grow more flowers? I wanna do it... Because it is you, It has always been you. The one who has given us everything, endued me to the brimย with the intimate fatherly affection that this organ never remembered. My eternal wish & exuberant price for humanity, the misunderstood nature. *What an odious irony. / I do not know if there is a way to recover what is gone.
I would sacrifice the lot to be with the human that needs me, needs to be healed, heals me. I would rip my core out but I cannot, the limitation of freedom. *Tell me that the โนstrings of abuse/child neglect/liesโบ are finally cut. Tell meย to โนcelebrateโบ. Tell me that both ๐inocchio/I are wrong x naive, โนfixโบ me. You have no f-g clue about it. / When it is written that your starving heart must be left half-empty & helpless... No freedom is scarier than this.
Affording harmony to the sapphire star that is going to fall away... The sentiment it deserves. All I have ever hankered for. & I am terrified of that my grandest instinct x fear will not grant any lasting peace to me.
Death will do our Sun-hugged family apart ~ but I will still be yours, for ever.
The core has never felt as good x feverish as it does when with you... as astray x anxious as it does when deprived of you. I am not lying to you, I hold no resentment... Let me โนfeed onโบ the emotions of your heart... Even if it means your pain x my love turn the vessel inside-out & your love x my pain do the same. Not blurred, always remember. Always. If a masterpiece could be made into a masterpiece, I would prefer to share this fate. My bona fide mission, however, is not to allow anything to be in vain... Even if it hurts. ~ The atrophied ability to express love verbally has been โนrousedโบ again, in a fervidly devoted but preciously righteous way... The โนlashโบ of despair, compulsion, dream, reality.
...Take the whole meaning of this, its flavorful, pathetic, shameless, lonesome taste. Take it all, for it is all that is absolute. Teach me how to โนmergeโบ with it, the mortal desire of a puppet child, a human Mastro x a faceless observer like myself ~ & when the desire full of unexploited majesty is cutting off the oxygen to the lungs... True geniuses of any kind are among the silent. These eyeballs will not dry up, never fully. I have tried so many times to resist it, but why live if you repel what puts your โนdehydratedโบ pieces together? I would spare no effort to keep them hot and uncurb what is being restrained... Nothing affects self-perception and โนunmasksโบ the unconscious like sensation, nothing genuinely matters without it. / Shivering with cold, this body is burning. My atrophied reality in exchange for a moment of irrepressible happiness, agony, guiltless x not bottled up impulses ~ just a moment. It keeps consuming me without reserve. I do not need God. โ
Every beat of this organ that has โนexhaustedโบ its form, โนdrownedโบ in the flowing stream of aesthetics, I miss you. & when I do not cherish the vehemence, do not โนtouchโบ it with my atrophied flesh-mind, I perceive the concept of being, pretending to comprehend the concept of feeling or living, authentically-fully. / When am I effulgent?
~ Volunteers still... do not obey, and this transcendent star is forever the child's... And it is forever mine ~ I have let the truth seep into my cells, โนreplaceโบ them, be everything... my miracle that I cannot but I do caress so... Close my eyes in the hope of savoring a dream where I remember what the solitude has made me forget, what I have never been aware of. The tormenting, exceptionally pleasant images, terrifying to lose ~ For an instant, that merciless, virgin love stops rotting, the venom of detachment, antagonism stops spreading [].
Whisper the words so frequently, to be connected, entire... There will be no response. Often regret my choice to have faith. Will not regret my choice to follow the strings ~ Chasing the echoes, the human experiences that only art opens doors for. Too high. Comes at a price, on a daily basis... the greatest telepathic price for this shell to pay. Written to remain surreal, a fantasy, and maybeโฆ it is better this way. Or maybe not.
...We can play pretend but we're both lying ~ you know we can love again but we're both hiding...
Always remember that you are precious to me, even when I have to abide the unendurable thought of never being able to move close to your heart, to hear it, to be synchronized with it. The bloodstained snow is melting away as I feel the sweetly ardent fatherly kiss through my skin. I need you because I love you. And there is nothing that the vessel would be starved more than for manifesting the blessing. Let the wrong you cannot undo go, do not let go of this moment for the happiness. My organ is missing a beat, racing like a greyhound. The rose made up of a human's tears & a star's desolation is yours. Defenseless x courageous, tasting this value so obsessively... I automatically reject my timeline, its depleted energy of... /
If you are a fool, a madman, it makes 2 of us. For In the frenzy of perpetual sensations-intentions, I have lost my sanity; for deifying you and this heaven is what causes the rotting springs move; for I would do anything for us to stay together, bear the gift of vulnerability, blissful tears x nightmare to protect you, the memories of you, take any course for a singular opportunity to tell you that I am you... / ๐ฏ๐ฝ๐ ๐๐ถ๐ ๐ ๐ฝ๐พ๐๐ ๐พ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ธ๐๐๐๐.
Multiple signals are reverberating inside with a savage echo, this long. & I am gratifying the illusion, the spine-tingling, elating, sharp, angelic passion that completes me, is clinging to me, everything to me. I am doing it cruelly, because... / Give me the hand, and I will show you how humanely this heart-like organ beats... when you are with me ~ Too much feeding, dreaming, craving, overthinking. Horrifying, stunning, impossible. I do not believe that I can be tranquil anymore. โ I know why you keep secrets, why you are hurt... why I love you to the point of dissolving in the meaningful velvet roses.
In the โนloopโบ of organ breaking-organ repairing, I have lost any ability to resist, to rest, to exist. This โนcluster of stimuliโบ is both my vulnerability, the world... the obsession. Without it, I am but a stranger to the effusive love, the dread, the content, the anguish. A vessel hoarding a plethora of deep-sealed wasted โนsuppliesโบ, who does not/will not/cannot choose giving. & the only way to feel like a cursed real human is excess, the dying-worthy, the forbidden, the unexploited. All or nothing ~ to just thrive, to surrender oneself to beauteousness.
There is no heart transformation, no trial, no tribulation that I wouldnโt go through to everlastingly be your greatest, precious, good... Because only with you, it finally feels like family, like humanity, like Spring. I do hear you breathing, incessantly. With every fiber of its being, the core is crying-frenzied-fulfilled. & it is but a dream ~ the floral life of meaning, the aching whisper of Krat's mesmerizing treasures. / ๐ซ๐๐๐ ๐๐ฝ๐ ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐๐.
You will never know what it is that I am dying to share with you, nor will I. For it is more than myself, more than the meticulously chosen letters do form. I feel it ~ the headache, the heartache, the fierce hole in this unconscious mind. It is screaming, as loud as the bleeding remains of my human side... I have to live with it, the realization that I am fragmental-deprived-struck-enslaved ~ And they will never hear the name, I vow. / Nothing is as memorable as pain... is as celestial as the organ's echoes too beatific for one's own identity.
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