Some days I feel evil.

You gagged on the 

filth I served you,

without once trying

to see if it had any

flavor.

Come to think of it,

I think you've got it

all wrong:

what you call your freedom

keeps your wrapped in chains,

paralyzed.

And you so clearly

love your paralysis,

you want to be 

paralyzed,

from the neck up.

I need someone who's

strong enough to be

who they are consistently,

and never lean on me for

protection.

I am the supervillain 

all your comic book

childhood tried to warn

you about, and you 

never listened.

Egoism is my biggest 

issue these days, and

it can be one helluva

trip from there to

humility.

It's a fall from the heights to the concrete or pavement, hundreds of feet or stories below, followed by blood.  A blood bath to be rather more specific, a violent, angry, gushing geyser of sable-dark gelatinous goo.

You're always so quick to tell the tales of yore: yourself the protagonist, actively choosing and acting autonomous, but a life lived too far into the past can only serve to tear apart the future--by way of the present.

Be careful where your

focus lies, because you

can learn to see any 

old thing you want

with time.

It's pretty clear to me

that it's appropriate to

keep in mind all manner

of time, because it's what

we live in.

Time to act alive!