I am —
too often —
at war with myself
in my own mind.

My spirit is torn
and littered with
lashes and abrasions
wrought by the hands
of those whom I let
have their way with me.

I am —
more often than not —
caught in an infinite number
of perplexing paradoxes;
I long so desperately
for you to be happy,
but what makes you happy
is killing me slowly.

My mind is a temple
better left abandoned
than filled with occultists
who only wish to desecrate
its holy grounds.

.
.
.

— © think twice
{woes of the hermit, part one}