Another post in my "get caught up with prior posts" series, this one is also rather old. I'm not sure who this is about, or when I wrote it, but here it is for completeness.
On Twin Points
Curled in a corner,
Face locked in a contorted ricture.
A visage twisted by the twins.
The angel Lethe, whispering sweet blissful memories.
The demon Belial, spreading dark poisonous glimpses of the yet-to-come.
Pulling in opposite directions,
His thoughts never wavering:
His love, his illuminating light, his being.
With her, he always wants more.
Ecstatic, but never sated.
For he knows how illusory it is.
Afraid to gamble on what he has,
But always lusting for more.
Without her, he is lost.
Every thought is consumed within one:
Her.
Every action derived from a single goal:
Her.
Every need subsumed before one:
Her.
To forget and ignore the spectral tormentors is to lose her.
To give in and explain is to drive her away.
To keep from oblivion, he balances on a knife's edge.
Neither silent nor vocal, for to succumb to either is to banish her.
Emotions bottled and hidden, only to slowly seep out.
Until he can move he will stand,
Perched on twin knife points.
Slowly pierced without motion,
The abyss waits for any wasted motion.
He cannot stay put, but he must.
"Just a bit farther" he says.
Just a bit farther indeed.
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