Reflections

Reflections

i am trying to understand how your heart operates. it is a remarkable machine, hurriedly competing over scarce resources, including, but not limited to, love by way of lust.

you are devoid of power, devoid of control, snatching it wherever you find it unguarded. and this stands as a barrier to your ability to participate in love.

you live life with a suspect heart that is manifested in a dramaturgic analysis of love within love.

and you can come, and come, and come to the same conclusions as i:

this is no longer [about] love.
this is not [about] humanity.

this is anthropology.
this is science.

the solution to your love[less] life is:

a redemption of the infrastructure of your heart as it is operating from finite resources, including but not limited to physically and emotionally violent men.

it is volcanic, an eruption for disaster.
it has turned your heart blue, then olive, gray, orange, then cold, steel.

my obsession with your machination proved to be detrimental to my survival, you see. i found little truth on which to live in your mechanical metal heart and so died. but not before seeing a reflection in the mirror of its hardened walls.

yes. you, and i, we were real. but my time as your tortured heart has become exhausted, outmoded.

and as you read the cold disconnect of my words, i am sure that you feel me in a way that you never felt me before. you won’t feel me again.

copyright JANEisnotplain 9.08