The very thought of you drives me forward
You are my companion, my enemy, my demon
It is my sick dread of you, the familiarity of your taste on my tongue
that makes me expect your companionship for the rest of my life
And yet it is the very same that gives me the imagination, the strength,
the desire to wish for something new, unfamiliar, something genuine
Like Eve’s snake you come to me with all your deceptive promises in all your varied and smoky forms
promises of happiness and self-meaning – of success.
like a fool I cover my eyes and plug my ears so as to follow you in apparent trust
I know better
But the worst you have ever done to me, and the reason I hate you
hasn’t so much to do with all of your injustices in the past, but rather the tragedy of the future
What if the genuine extends its hand to me one day
and instead of taking it like I had done a thousand times before
I haven’t the courage or the faith to do anything but wave it away?
And so, like one captivated by an inescapable and taunting ghost, I can never stop following
and, perhaps, it will never stop being you, feigning light at the end of the tunnel
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