It wasn't that I was searching for the correct words to say in all of his entirety. I knew exactly what I wanted to shout, what I wanted to pronounce, and what I wanted him to feel. Something, anything, as long as he could feel a massive blow right to his steel chest. At that very moment I could feel my blood begin to thicken, my toes begin to tingle, and my breath begin to stagger. He is my drug and I am severely suffering a disgusting addiction. For once in my life I feel completely and uncontrollably unannounced, undesirable, inapt, and unclean. I lay defeated for my existence feels to worn now. Finding my stance in stability is tricky when he forces himself into my reflections. I faint at my own anxiety, I provoke every idea that I could become undeniably devoted to that one notion. The notion to keep, to embark, and to hang onto.
I leave to his benefit a bit of doubt that I can contain my hostility. I am angry, determined, compassionate, tactful, and unable to humble myself at ones own flaws. In all of my sight he needs to walk if he is not strong enough, fast enough, and able to show me his greatness.
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