the Whip.

So what am I to do with this aching heart of mine? Where am I to go now that all I know has been shattered. In other words my entire world I have aquired has been proven faulty. Is it possible to be unreal, being? It seems it. I live daily a life created from misfitting dreams and harsh cold cruelty, to myself, by myself.
Is it possible they could ever provide the means for relief?
Yes, I have seen it. It requires much sacrifice to gain this way but it suffices when you don't want to compromise.

Enter fear. Of what? The phoenix. I am attached by a lie that gets me through by the root of my teeth, all else it rips away. Barren world draining me. I am naked and bleeding, but my mind percieves flying. The vision fades, replaced by sharpened nails clawing.

It creeps in, mascarading, massacring.
And I end it, crawling away, confused, my mind cleared but cloudy.
Have I met my spirit guide or is also my connection between eyes and perception scrambled. I bleed a mess on the floor. But there is something left worth following, or taming.
The whip cracks, I agree with it but can I entice it to play my side?

FOLLOW ME.
There is no direction.
I've lost my head for the moment but the feeling reigns supremely sending shots of sinless joyful panging.
Enter new life.
the birth.
The creature the reins and horse and rider intertwined to collaboration make.
Given life through recognition.
Breathe it, Fear it, Respect it
BECOME it.
or was it already you?

Disregard but for the most private abstract moments of exploration. Thoughts loved, danger divine. Remember the nights alone. Apply memory, how faded it seems.