Dear Dehiscence,

We come to our impasse—dealing with vile creatures, lending weight to our faithless faculties. Our dearer senses, becoming our Id, where this I is in conflict with its reality; this bile spewing mirror, this friend at ages so pure, our six month old anxieties. I have created this essence; for, although, a creature was under suspicion, I treated said creature like majesty—where withdrawal of such dosages becomes inflammatory rage and intolerance; those dreams rift asunder, this ancient, primitive, even embryonic-primordial anguish; our eyes failing our gusts, our screams confusing our behavior, if but anyone to feel complete. Nor was I gentle, musing upon a clear anxiety, as most are willing to embrace a given opportunity. It matters little those repercussions, for most are so low, where another shows sparks and we wonder if this is reality. But a seed giggles, losing laughs, a bit concerned about multiple dialogues; however, let time speak sweetly, let wounds close with therapy, or if we must, permit interior to evaluate something it may be incapable of receiving: those long aches, this firebird mentality, or sluggish at life reamed by those childhood mirrors; insomuch, as tragedy, this opened lesion, where agony saw fit to purchase our brains; at deep harm, fiddling with deep betrayal, while secrets have painted a fortress; this empire of casualties, this pursuit to ease pain, while a warm body seems our perfected avenue. Those ripples they leak. Those undercurrents are sprinkling. But only in private is life a hellish machine. Our nightingales fainting. Our treacheries etched upon our frontal lobes. While misery has never become so many facets. This treacherous vacuum, if but anybody, if but degraded in order more freedom. Our daughters angry. Our fathers trying to forgive. Our souls to strange, lonely, or ambitious women. / I lack a definite recourse, rolling into angst, so low at times feigning so casually; this poker-faced interim, this mansion three houses over, or this determination to explain essence where such remains in such controversy; but what was the agenda, if witty he shall perish, while mother raised something stronger than that; a machine, a person cold at points, but understand, not each issue should become life consuming; whereas, this is blood related, this pieced together scarecrow, while both are too young to sit before a psychologist; and this frightens, but life is most about hiding, while no one wishes to hear that they may possess an interior destructor; so, days are hectic, a feeling becomes law, albeit, unsaid feeling is never on trial for authentication; it is merely vetted, because it feels good, but imagine those swamps situated at our frontal lobes; this cortex mirror, this ruling Id, or a rancid scent permeating our rooftops. I confess to an imbalance, but chemistry is easily adjusted, how does one adjust three decades of living in accordance to pure pain? It becomes uneasy, as never reaching intimacy, for one is running from self-imagery, and one is gunning down those that get to close; for issues are systematic, they arise in existence, and if one sees me, I must then realize that there is a problem. / I do not blame us, not at this moment, for each of us lives this chasm; our childhood predicaments, our poignant interims, plus, this divorced sense of responsibility; as cognitive dissonance, as passive or aggressive creatures, while true identity seems to escape our faculties; this person in Bibles, this person in Buddha, where it hurts to realize our reflection; as angry bystanders, dipped in parental uncertainty, while control becomes our ruling frequency; this submissive essence, this trampling while watching, but feeling power as insatiable. I close with something in mind. It shall destroy what is left of this machine. But this is different. It has no place in love. / Our remote feelings, our dire concerns, where sex is such a vital requirement; indeed, a bit gray, this life meaning so little, our abused egos usurping our superegos; to determine more resistance, to ask for more control, where we each have proven incapable of managing authority.