The parallel lines overhead.
And all around, this parade of uncaring.
Every day, I enact the same rituals, think the same thoughts. It is worrying, tiresome, dreaming of the ways I've betrayed myself. I'll eat some toast, ruminate on the fiery path before me. Having seen the shape of things to come renders one at least a little blind.
They were aware of what to look for and kept it under lock and key.
The nature of mind is habituation. Keep your head down, it will help you see the fissures in the narrative. It was sabotage. If I knew why I do it, I would stop doing it.
You sat there next to me, like Janus, speaking through both faces. When I look into your eyes, I can see another person behind them, skin to skin. The intensity of it, a blister, a heat in my face about which you constantly ask me. I should tell you all of it, spend countless hours explaining the subtlest detail.
I know the truth of you, friend. The crux of it is I want you to have nowhere to run.
The object of the game is to keep it hidden until I fall to pieces. There are so many things I understand.