Empire Of The Senseless

I have found myself. I have adorned her. I rest in this infatuation. I lift my spirit and take the pen from my mouth. As soon as it finds the space for creation, I am free again. I live in my imagination. I die intermittently. I scarcely eat. I’m in constant pursuit of the purest water source. I feel my chest rise and fall: I rest. I close my eyes and listen for my love. My heart commands my head. The inter-workings of my mind are readily obedient, awaiting orders, eager to please. Love dictates the movements of my physical form. My imagination tells the story as I live it. When I speak this story aloud, it comes into being. It is hardly magic; but is the powers bestowed upon my species. My kind is rare. Most bodies move stupidly, dumb to their desire, mute to their destiny. Most minds have been disconnected from the heart’s yearnings. Mostly, love is rotting here. I run around frantically, trying to pick up the pieces and stuff them into my chest swiftly. Before they dissipate completely in the possession of