Pleasure or Pain
Are you tortured more by pleasure or more by pain? From which do you run more earnestly? Which expenditure of effort exceeds the other…to give yourself completely and utterly to the embrace of love, accepting contentment for its offerings and limitations or do you insert those shards into your tender skin and sabotage any chance, regardless of how obvious and how visceral you perceive, that you may have of falling into the pit of pleasure, to be raptured and consumed fulminantly by love? Or perhaps an overriding, fiendish concept trumps the perception and reality of my own mind. What if you can’t perceive of pleasure and pain, of love and non-love? What if the reason we can’t relate isn’t because you are just scared and frightened shitless by the intuition that you will be ripped apart at the seams by a bombardment of A love and its ecstasy that will invalidate in priority your prior existence? What if these things are truly non-existent within your being and what I perceived as fear or malady, is actually not spiritual death, but spiritual absence …an absence of any potential and any desire. Maybe the actions are played out by mimicry of what you think you are supposed to do, to feel, when all along, you can’t ever get there and you never will, because you are incapable. What if we are different creatures and I made the mistake of believing we were the same and that you were like me, and as such, just traveling the same dark road I once traveled? What if you never crawled or walked or stumbled and what if you can never fly? What if there is no pleasure or pain in your world? What if there never has been, nor can there ever be in your world, something that exists in my world, something that I call love?