Caught in a mysterious void of headaches and delusions. Whether my methodical transition is at fault is further to one's knowledge. Within the pain, blood, migraines, and ravings lies a deeper disturbance. A precursor of darkness and despair that still lies within the depths of the psyche that does not seem to abate silently. Difficult to contain and tame the wild beasts within. Two lions ; one white, one black. Both representing two utmost convictions to the heart. The white lion stands behind the banner of truth, dignity, loyalty, love, and moral virtues. The opposing black lion stands behind the onyx shield of rage, guilt, dominance, desire, deceit, and immoral power. The lions, dormant in their own caves, frequently plunge out to battle one another.
These battles are long, gruesome, and arduous. Gnarls, lashes, bites, and submission ; these lions seem not to submit to defeat to no avail. Such shame that two beautiful deadly creatures can tear each other apart for virtues that can be trivial. Trivial at certain moments and hellishly consequential at others.
Time passes ever so slowly and the mirrored lions continue, moving in seeming allocation with each other. Never missing a beat nor a blow. Constantly in complete symmetry and in graceful coordination. An elegant & morbid brawl to a likeness of a dance. A choreographic display of violence without a champion. The battle continues between the beasts, so the war is no where near to its end.
A wanted intention turns to a misguided mistake. Slap on the face for guilt, yet the extremes do not seem to help. The flesh of the mind becomes numb to sorrow and guilt. Walking towards good attempt, abruptly becomes intercepted with a collapse of the ground. One step forward equals three feet below.
An embrace with a scratch on the back. A kiss with teeth sunken into the lip. Burning desires turn into a torture chamber. All that is needed are the shackles, chains, and the whip. One's own prison ; a cell of iron. Bite the leather & take the lashes one by one as they keep coming. Justice or penitence? Unbound or control? The stark mad ravings seem to have no end.
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