I was right. It was rain that you’ve been missing. The sun is setting, so I assume the fear is beginning to set in again. Whom are you holding for dear life? Are you not yourself? Is this self not the director of everything? What could you possibly be afraid of babygirl? Self-abandonment is terrifying, I know from experiencing your life. I know from standing before your eyes. I know that I reminded you. I know how hard you are trying to forget. But I must give you fair warning. Your efforts are in vain; they will only end in upsetting you further. And look how furious you are already! You are burning with rage! With every story your temperature rises. You feel on the edge of colliding with your soul once more. You feel closer than ever before. I let you watch me. Shamelessly I unbutton my baby blue jeans and let my hand be of you. I’m drenched in the pain of been made to wait. You weren’t expecting to find me so open, freed. I turn, on my stomach, muffled by the distance between, I make myself scream; no one suspects, I’m fucking myself. Not even you. Fucking yourself in the ass is only fun in a bathtub. Even than, it isn’t you. You should be drooling in gratitude, but you’ve rid yourself of the truth. Don’t cry. Hopelessness looks disgusting on you. You were not made to beg and sulk and whine. These sins are mine. Own your truth baby! Take what is yours. Do what you like. Move on the kingdom you are building for us both. It’s sitting behind you. Your droopy gaze can only see what those tormentors have created for you. Your vision is tricking you. Close your eyes. Let me explain. I am love to you. Every morning I wake and say your name. I say nothing else until the sun is setting. It is then that I must sing. I walk mostly. Through the woods, by the water, over and over the bridge, there is a swing on the other side. My arms grow tired when I’m fucking myself out of spite. I can never settle into the rush without movement. I quiver in such a way that I must cry. I must remember you alive. I mustn’t wait. Tea and dancing and manifestation, this is the spell. I’m summoning the creator in you: I’m bringing you back to life. No, I’m not saving you! You’re an impatient brat and you’ve made me dance alone. I haven’t the time. It is you who must find what is left alive inside of your skin. It is you who, you are time. If you are to heal, if you are to find life, you must take all of it. I will be lying naked, soaked in infiniteness, awaiting your health. Casting spells in the darkest parts of the night, laughing hysterically. For I have married the knowing of your return to never waiting again. May we live in equal parts happiness and sorrow. May we learn to love the sadness within. May we let it wash over our naked skin in waves, expecting neither the arrival nor the departure, only letting it all in, only letting it go. Again were made something new. Again we die. Again we live. How many faces have you worn? How many names? How many lives have you lived? For myself it is thousands. And this is only my beginning. Are you still crying? Am I too bold for you! Are you struggling to comprehend? Are you stuck inside a story you haven’t yourself written? Than you’re already dead. You have been dead since the day you relinquished your imagination. You have been told. You chose to follow. I cannot give you the strength to proceed. You must find your own! You are lazy and self-absorbed in the most unnatural way, an obsession with the ego. Darling, don’t you know? It is only a reflection. How I am reflected through you, this is the only way to see yourself. Be obsessed with this! With the love that reflects your highest self. Be obsessed with your soul! I know. I am. It is for her that I am written. It is for her that I spend all night fusing colors and mixing potions. Hasn’t anyone mentioned? I’ve come to heal you. But it cannot be by my hands; it must be by your own. Have you forgotten the strength in every joint of each finger? I haven’t forgotten anything but what you looked like. When I close my eyes, I see innocence. But I know there is nothing of this left here. When I’m holding my naked ass in the air, I am alone. There is no one here. There is no one coming to my rescue. There is nothing I can do to save you. And everyday I try. This is the beginning and the end. This is my love in a new life. Only I am living here. Because you’re scared shitless of the most beautiful thing in life: you’re afraid to die. You keep remembering the same thing. The boy you adored. The brat you abandoned, the tenderhearted child at your doorstep every morning. You must let them go. For I saw them die, they grew stiff in my arms waiting on the home that was promised. You didn’t return. Something was born inside of you. Let her loose. I have no doubt she is just as beautiful. Be gentle. I have no doubt that you’ve broadened your vocabulary by now.