This lack is lacking all but a push and it doesn’t seem fair to keep looking back.

But forward isn’t helping anymore because forward is just as bleak, as the anticipation of wanting, which has left me wanting.

I look around and see all of you floating through your own success oblivious to the torment you create within me, is it deliberate a ploy to keep me crushed down am I so dangerous to you…or to myself?

Solutions are hidden by their own opacity and I see through your lies to yourself as to me but I wonder, would it be the same reversed, or genuine humility? Am I so much more or less than I feel?

Anyway, disappear when I switch you off but stay with me always, for I can’t bear to be without you; my informer, my tormentor, my mistress, my guilt.

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