War.

One piece, one look. As addiction seeps into the skin, a parasite has found its host. Again, repressibility sleeps. And a war has begun. Snoozing itself, repressibility sleeps. I am at war, myself and my whore. Beside me it lays— greedy and selfish, unworthy of a name.

I turn to my side, watch my hand glide, feel closely as the world subsides. My whore is a bitch, sleeping with both my body and mind. It is a nuisance, tort of aggravation, capable of controlling the brightest and still all the rest. Raging fire, a disturbing fight, gain is diminished and I am hidden from the light.

We live and love in a cave, hidden from emotional creatures. I tell it to let me go.

Hurt from weakness, the pain never mends. Broken by war, I am one with remorse. Accidental addiction, repressibility sleeps. Scared, scarred, shaken and starved, I have initiated war.