sublime starvation

It surprises me how life can be both rewarding and cruel in a simultaneous deed. Simultaneous not as in nearly at the same time....consecutive....almost but not quite....but at an identical moment.

How it can bless you and curse you in the same breath. Nurture you and molest you. Love you and rape you.

Remind you of life through the exposing of raw nerves and the ensuing pain their bareness brings. The liberation and shame that nudity brings.

I cannot help but feel like entertainment. Not just for you, but for the string-pullers of fate, the tyrants of the Divine Plane. There's something you want, and it is always given in time, but not without challenge. Not without consequence. Not without a demand for suffering.

"Ask and you shall recieve......oh, but wait, there's just one little thing."

Clap your hands. Laugh from the base of your chest as I make foul of myself and bleed for the sake of bleeding.

......we love sad movies and tragic poems. And a happy ending would be a profound disappointment to everyone but me.
The audience is always more important than the performer......the auditorium is always bigger than the stage.

Yet this has dispelled all compromises, imitations, pseudos and quasis, impersonations, and unreasonable facsimiles.

And these shallow splashings now only leave me to hope for a strong undertow to pull me out and drown me in deeper waters. Embrace me and crush me to a singularity.

These liaisons have never before appeared so meaningless. I have never felt so dirty. Now being awakened to the depths of myself and how incapable I am of fulfilling them, forcing me into petty compromises of washed-out, insincere copies and similars-but-nots, I have never felt so much the useless, deprived shell.

Now, I can't look these imitations in the face without knowing them for what they are. I have been robbed of the ability to pretend and indulge in illusions.

I have never felt so powerful and inadequate. Fulfilled and empty. Perfect and imperfect. Given and lacking. Found and lost.
You could call me clueless or you could just shoot me like a lame horse.

A starving man eventually forgets his hunger. Reaches a point where he becomes accustomed and desensitized to its sting and he then settles himself in a nullified content, peacefully slipping into a slow death.

But approach him and place a spoonful of honey into his mouth, and his hunger will awaken with savage, raging potency. He is reminded of his desperate state. He once again feels the emptiness of his stomach grasping him in an excruciating fist as it calls out for more of what was tasted.

He feels alive again, he remembers the terms of his existence, his needs, his wants, his dreams, his hopes, and everything in between. He's hopeful, but in agony. His calm atrophy has now spurred into movement.....but towards what?  And why?  Bother?

To be reminded of nourishment is to be reminded of hunger. To be reminded of life is to be reminded of death. To be reminded of love is to be reminded of pain. You cannot separate these things.