written by neutralfleur
from pure clarity to absolute incomprehensibility i spot you. staring down the barrel of a gun too light in your hand: torn between wanting it to go off and hoping i reach out to knock it from your hand
it’s not that i don’t understand your struggle — although i don’t anymore. i just fear you’re impoverished in your thinking frugal in your experiences to be writing about pain as if it’s the only thing you’ve ever felt between your fingertips
it’s not that you aren’t authentic or that you lack impulse instead i worry this is a marriage of convenience not a towering passion. i sense something fundamentally messy and crucial missing
i say this because it arises from necessity i can touch your suffering because it oozes from your skin i just don’t know if the way you thread it into every part of yourself is what you truly want.
you walk a risky rope a tiny trail a petite path you’re unpredictable, but not like a consortium of octopuses escaping through a one-inch hole you’re dangerous to yourself.