All the water in the well gone dry belongs to me. Such an offer, how could I refuse? I stand as near the edge as I can get and try my best to peer, is the goldfish alive? For you see this is still my best hope, you, the source are also my wishing well, more than just survival you are prospect, neigh dream. You say that what’s left is mine, but you think of it as incidental, not a need, merely a want. Someplace deep, beyond where you admit, you know that life is dependant on desire, but will play mine off as casual when it becomes inconvenient to your drives and blindness. Eunuchs do not immediately perish, but you must confess they do not live. I stand here a lock to which there is no longer a key and whether I am open or closed it doesn’t matter for the partnership of change is desiccated and I do not care for a waterless solution.
Check yourself for false steps
When you say “self” who do you mean
Asked my sponsor
Do you mean the lovely velvet child,
Or the façade you built to show others?
Well I wish I could answer you, I do, my reply.
I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety
I love that you made it.
When you talk about ridding yourself of self–
I doubt you mean this edifice.
Do you speak of some creature in the past
Do you know of whom you speak
Are you parroting, then assuming this thing exists
Solely for you to now dispose of it?
I thought “self” was self-evident- I feebly interject.
I want names and locations
If you only suspect some of these entities
Please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions
I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals
I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping
I see by the bright look on your face,
I have made myself clear, she said with conviction.
So this is what you meant by self-inventory, I say and sigh.