Misanthropy

Apr. 6th, 2008 at 10:40 AM

I miss you, but you've misunderstood me. Once again. Obfuscated, you take numbers and re-arrange them into insults. Like my years are inches I have over you, and the words that float down from just the 12.7 centimeter reach between us are meant to be "patronizing." You mistake the intention of that word. Run to your beloved dictionaries, your thesauri, look it up...I dare you. Beneath the glaring contradiction that you would like to view me as, is my true definition. A patron, whom offers you support. No more your pillar than your pedestal. Are you afraid of the heights I would aspire to see you grace? Content to fester on the ground with the conventional wasted souls of this world? Or perhaps the coins I dangle in front of you cheapen your resolve to create greatness. They aren't meant to buy your soul, they'll be no deals with the devil here. Run off with them, steal away if you must, claim you weren't given them freely, but that you beguiled them out of me like a clever thief. Whatever suits your image most. But know, somewhere within you, they were given. Gifted to you, to pursue the pleasures of your most creative character. These coins are not meant to buy you, but to help you till the fertile land of your brilliant mind, your wanton lust, and expose the flesh of your spirit. I do not come to possess you, but rather to set you free; to liberate you from those shackles you have placed upon your own ankles and wrists. Flourish, self-pollinate, but do not mistake my place in this matter. Temper the incredulous tone in your stinging tongue before we next meet. I will NOT become a whipping post for your insecurities; the walking backside of your self-flagellation. If my presence is such a nuisance to your ego, I will take it elsewhere and leave you to your own ill-gotten devices. It would be best not to sharpen your claws on the underbelly of a person that comes to lay such gifts at your feet. Stifle your misplaced pride with me and realize I do not see you as a child, unless you act out against me with impertinence. I see you as a glorious equal. You would see this too if you weren't too busy throwing tantrums in my face and calling my sobriquets "bullshit." So take your "nostalgia" for another mind who meant you wrong and do me one kind favor by sparing me the mistaken and insulting comparison. If that is all that you can see me as, your sight is more blunted than I thought, and you have already cast my coins before SWINE. I will not sully my hands by digging through slop and shit for your benefit, they bear too many wounds that beg for further infection. Rather, I will make my final recompense to you, my lasting reparation, and take my injured fingers to suckle in the regret of your absence. Vindication would taste sweet, but I strongly doubt you'll afford me that act of compassion with your hubris hanging in the balance.

Music:Adore Adore - Yoav