how do you keep the parasite in you fed? what part of your soul keeps it sustained? that hatred deep within you serves as its fuel.
at what point does devotion morph into something entirely new? icarus flew close to the sun because he wanted to be the first thing its rays shone on; yet what he considered to be good and bright caused his destruction.
maybe it’s the opposite for you. this parasite sustains itself with your silent rage; slowly eating away at you until there’s no anger left.
but who are you without this anger? you didn’t think it would be this easy did you?
oh, don’t be a fool. icarus desired the good and bright because that’s who he was. your body feeds a parasite the worst of you because there’s nothing left. you have nothing left to give.
slowly but surely the parasite drowns itself in your darkness. your your your. this is all you and there’s no escaping that. either face it like a young determined greek (destined to fall into the sea) or let your parasite consume you as well. (what is the luck of the draw without tragedy?)
don’t dillute me, there’s no escaping all that i hold. though all that i am constantly slips through my fingers. ultimately my hands hold nothing. i cannot grasp my past, present, or future. i can’t cradle it, i can’t mother it.
what do your hands hold? can you turn the pages of your life? (would you want to?)
i think everything you hold bleeds through your fingers as well. you hold so much, yet the only place to put it down is back inside your body (always feeding that parasite). but like me, you don’t mother what is inside of you.
should i call down cassandra to tell you what will happen if you keep this up? this time she won’t be punished for telling the truth.
perhaps if you loosen your grip, something might stay. let go of these self proclaimed visions, let someone else shout the prophecies instead.
you can pretend it’s an angel, but it will always be a girl. she won’t be singing, she’ll be screaming. in a dream, she shrieks “loosen your grip. everything you hold dies because you are always choking it. can’t you hear it wailing?” you want to answer “no, i hear the vultures circling above me. i see the circle i’m trapped in” but the words don’t come out. oh gods, you’re the one that’s been cursed now. enjoy the neverending nightmare; it’s not much different from your life now, but that presence grows stronger with each tick of the clock.
there’s nothing for your hands to hold now. all past, present, and future has been wiped from existence. you are nothing more than a plaything for time itself.