blind hubris;

                                                           

blind hubris brought us together. that, and the inexplicable cathartic pull of one body to another, even over distance. if part of him took seed within me, it was only because i'd willingly given him so much of myself that i had to take him into me, to fill the empty recesses. sometimes, it became hard to tell where i ended, and his undeniable influence began.

we never understood our own, seemingly mutual, gravitational pull. something in him magnetically pulled the words from my throat, words he was never sure how to respond to, even as he found me extracting from him promises and hopes that he'd forgotten he was capable of expressing. from the outside, looking in, we supported each other from the constant collapse of the foundations of our lives. from the inside, looking out, we were broken before we even started.

he was the only thing. the skeleton key that opened doors and gently brushed the cobwebs away. the only thing.

"sooner or later, we all sell our souls" -- that's the way of it, of course; some sooner than others. he released something with his words, though the alcohol must have played a part in jarring loose my moral convictions. it became the turning point; from then, gravity had us in an orbit that threw us apart as much as pulled us together.

and so, i watched with alcohol-blurred eyes, as he systematically destroyed the world -- there's power in his grey eyes that no man should possess. caught in his presence, i watched -- awaited his return, awaited the news that the end is near, the end is here, the end.

oh, i know; it's too much credit to give one man; he may not change the world, but he'll destroy everything he touches, just because he can. and i tasted that in him before i succumbed to sleep, i saw that in him when the bottle emptied and fell to the floor. i see, and hear, and touch, and taste the worst of him --

but he had the best of me. exploited everything i had to give, just for the sustenance he could have found elsewhere.

he nested inside of me, cancerous and parasitic; but it felt so good to be depended upon. oh, i know; he needed me as nothing more than a vehicle towards his own satisfaction -- the built-in audience that watched in awe, and understood why. i thought maybe it was enough to have so much faith; maybe instead, he'd spare me.

or, if not, he breathed so much of life and death into everything he touched -- i'd have lived more with him that i ever could have without him.

but now? the limited shelf-life of excess and electricity has reached its best before date. i'm swallowing light like whiskey in an attempt to bring myself back to life; whether he leaves, or i do, i've still a void to fill in his absence. his inevitable absence, because men like him only know to devour. and women like me only know to make do once the electricity is gone.