To Play by Your Rules

Pace. the rock of personal hell. Pace. Your cutout smile is cutthroat angry, always screaming

Break me. Break me.

I am the strings where with no stings attached, your mind, my minefield. If I am the creator then you belong with me, at my side, can't you see? The power trip on my ultimate catharsis, drops you to your knees every time. You plan to exist on the same plane as single placid faces and yet you return and try to climb, letting me let you. Sentences give life and love structure, but without words, your letters have no meaning. In meaning I am sound, what keeps you so hot all the time, i don't know. You make pictures in blank screens and you make meaning where nothing once was.
The beast would speak.
The truth is, I know no such beast. I know of the existence of talons and claws and teeth, but I also know of wings and speed and touch and I know past what you are to what you have been and the question remains that would you want
if you wanted
I could forget you, and leave you where you are, do you want to be? I could leave you, but the truth is my mystery and only I can know. I could forget you and tell you its true, and it would matter, or I could forget you and tell you I never could, and it would still matter. Perhaps I should keep my mouth shut, and leave you to your own answers.

Cave mouths open and close in your dreamlike haze, taking breaths but never really taking. Is it satisfaction? Too bad I can never tell you you seem a god to me. As this light, you are more now than can be explained in sounds and psychology. Am i really such a monster to you?

For everything we've been through, millions of circles to you.