Well, almost independent. There is
a tiny crack in your cerebral armour and I am there to thrust right
through it. I am ready to habituate you. "I am in full control" - you'd
say - "So, where's the threat?" And, truly, there is none.
There's only certainty. The certitude I offer you throughout our game.
Sometimes I even venture: "I am a crook to be avoided". You listen with
your occidental manners, head tilted obliquely, and when I am finished
warning you, you say: "But where the danger lies? My trust in you is
limited!" Indeed - but it is there!
I lurk, awaiting your capitulation, inhabiting the margins, the
twilight zone twixt greed and paranoia. I am a viral premonition,
invading avaricious membranes, preaching a gospel of death and
resurrection. Your death, your rising from the dead. Assuming the
contours of my host, I abandon you deformed in dissolution.
There's no respite, not even for a day. You are addicted to my nagging,
to my penetrating gaze, instinctive sympathy, you're haunted. I don't
let go. You are engulfed, cocooned, I am a soul mate of eerie insight,
unselfish acumen. I vitiate myself for your minutest needs. I thrive on
servitude. I leave no doubt that my self-love is exceeded only by my
love for you.
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