This maelstrom is ******* me in. No chance of rescue. No second life. I am torn between wanting to fight and needing to let go. I can feel your phantom fingers hefting me upward, toward the blinding light. Then, I am yanked down to the sweet abyss of unfeeling. Both promise of everlasting silence; one that can never be broken by humans. I am cleaved in two; these forces wage war over my limp body.

     It's nice to know that something would fight for you even though humanity has given up hope. I should let go, be one with the supernatural.  But which should I choose? I really need to let - NO! I don't want to be fought over by forces I can't even begin to imagine. I still want solid hands to touch me. I want the natural warmth that a body emits. I want to feel sturdy bones beneath my fingers and physical contact with the owners of these phantom fingers.
    
     I won't let anyone decide for me. I won't die without a fight. I'll claw and scrape at everything for my survival. I'll even clip you in the head should you have ill intentions. No, I will fight till my end. And maybe, just maybe, I'll die with a smirk on my face and with fingertips hiding scraped flesh and blood beneath.

I was drawn apart from the rest. Segregated and in isolation. I talk to myself. Tell myself all my dreams and aspirations. Relate my dreams and horrors within my confinement. The walls reverberate with my voice. The shadows scream in agony when I start telling tales to regale myself. The mice scurry past my ankles. I don't care at all. Voices travel within my cell, bringing with it stories from the outside; where the sun touches a person's skin and where the wind is considered a friend.

I am a flea gorged on your blood.
       A pest you could never get rid of.
I am a constant itch on your body,
       one that never goes away.
I am a craving that could
       never be satisfied.
I want to be
       the salutation in your love letter.
I need to be a problem
       you can’t solve.
I desire for you to see me.
      With holes in my body and cracks in my interior.
I hope you’ll reach for me
       with your fingers spread.
I fancy your lips on my forehead
       tonight.

You act as an elixir.* A single drop of you makes my skin crawl over my wrought out muscles. Spasms consume my body. My synapse go firing in every direction. I feel emboldened, I feel strength interlacing with my being. I am steel.

     You are my caffeine to which I am soulfully addicted to. A single sip of you keeps me aware through the bowels of the night. I stare at the moonlight shining through the window. I look up at the stars and wonder how I could reach them. I am invincible.

     You are a person whom I'll never reach. Someone who is "sophisticated" as ****. A man-child who does his own bidding. A spark of electricity in the realm of force fields. A creative blot of ink in a letter of sorts.

     You are everything I want but would never have.

You are a madman.* And I am drunk on your attention. I slither and glide towards you. Crawling beneath your still form,. Desperate for the heat that your body openly offers.

     You are a gladiator. And I a spectator in your quest for entertainment. I move to the rhythm of the lasso. I flinch and cry out. Bits of flesh tear from my skin. Small rivers of blood converge and flow.

     You are the dictator. And I am your slave. I'm here to please you. Serve you with all I am. I give my body. Unhitch my soul.

          *I am yours but you'll never be mine.

A disastrous relationship,
     shaky,
          unstable.
We are unique,
     one-of-a-kind.
Could we last?
Would this be forever after?
Or is tomorrow our end?
We met in sticky situations of our own,
     we met half way there.
Is it the beginning of together
     and the end of each other,
Or the deaths of one another?