cold metal
i knew it all too well
the choices
and absolute inescapability of one option taking over the other
as cold as any metallic part could ever be
sure some would call it psychosis but then again what else is there?
a lie, elusive middle, the in-between
in reality constant swaying from one side to the other.
psychotic is all there is
psychotic is all we are
some embrace it while others hide in the shadows
and I chose not to hide
I chose in
I chose on
I chose fire
I chose action and direct execution
no surprises
unless the script she planted inside me that warm night on the roof has some functions she did not mention
I need to see the man