Myth*

"Write the story of us...for us"
While pain ignites memories and memories ignite pain; the pain you've inflicted in me ignited the death of our memories.
A masterpiece of amnesia, our love tastes like.
Have I ever known you at all? Is there a story to tell?
This is the loss of a story that I no longer mourn...a sorrowless case I no longer recognize; my senses fail me and so does my mind.
I don't feel you anymore, I don't recall how I ever have. A blank page I never thought I'd regain.
To feed on your remembrance is no longer a possibility for your existence reincarnated into the myth you always were, not even a figment of your own imagination. You're not real, you're not unreal, you're an attempt of a creation destroyed by its own mechanism.
"I only know myself because I know you"
There is no you, if knowing yourself is by thinking you know me.
Unless...I am agony.
Unless...I am sufferance.
Unless...I am melancholy.
Unless...I am insanity.
Unless...I am guilt.
Unless...I am violence.
Unless...I am rage.
Unless...I am disgust.
In that case, I am you.

                                                                                                          October 29th, 2014.