Wednesday, May 27, 2009

I am the host

Drinks are on my because I am the host and you are the parasites.

You can be fed off in millions of different ways. People syphoning off any talent you ever had for their own personal gain to some insufficient end. When they suck you dry and you start to wane you start to feel yourself simply want to give out. You can feel yourself slip from the venues in which you once found solace and in all this chaos you lose that part of you. You lose that part of you that's been sucked clean and now you're a little emptier of a shell who's waiting for more teeth to bare.

You get off to that feeling, that feeling that some one needs you for something, and it makes you so incredibly excited to feel you've helped in some way or another. You're a host to all and you enjoy it that one. A lop sided symbios that you'll never weight out. Just surgery upon surgery on the nodes of compassion that you once swelled with. You're getting warn out and you simply feel that part of you falling out. You're loose, and you're hanging open at the neck where the teeth once dug. Bleeding out everything that you wanted to use to make everyone better. It's some seeping feeling that you get there where the nodes once resided. You can feel a gentel drip drip and you wonder if you've got much left.

Fact is, you've been feeding everyone while you were trying to feed one, and now through torn flesh and collective amnesia you're realizing that there was never a turning moment that made you want to ever do anything like this. There's some sort of realization that you take in. It was never the benefit of everyone. It was never the benefit of a few. You were bleeding out the nodes of compassion from the side of your jaw for just one one one. It was only one that ripped you apart without hands. Insinuation guided your own claws to pull at the fabric of your own gently crying face and all you could do was bleed compassion for them to take in.

It's not fair that such things could ever take place, but through the opaque intoxication that hope provides you just let it go let it go and on and on it turned. Guide the claws, haul another piece of flesh unwillingly from your neck. Led by the dotted lines left by teeth you claw away what remaining skin clings to the tendons that connect your neck to your shoulder. You're letting all compassion and effort and hope flow from you in some desperation to fix them to fix them to make things all better.

Claw claw claw and finally you can't take it. You've torn so much of yourself apart that it'll never ever go back to normal but part of you is okay with salvaging what you can. So you cut apart the parasite with whatever strength you've mustered. It's all you can do and all you have to drive the knife through it over and over. You kill them to save yourself.

So I bid to you Goodnight.

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