The Joker

I am your truth. I live with fiery spirit, with a kind of intensity you can never dream of. How I flit through your insignificant life, untouchable. Distant. Frozen to contact. I just might accept you as a rival, but that will only be when I am at my weakest. And that will be my secret.

I know what you think, I know what you’re worth. I can see into your core, for I have lost mine. It’s easy to, for you’re vulnerable. Open to scrutiny, cracked, broken. Your recurring memories can break your spirit, cloud what you are, how can you be anything but easy to perceive?

A word of uncertainty from a voice insignificant is all it takes. You’re over. At my most human, you call me cruel. How can you deny me my amusement, my respite from what I think you are: unadulterated boredom.

I search for the wall that defies me, until then, I shall toy with you. Play along, for I might just escalate into a juggernaut that builds and builds with every slur I face.

I delight in your helplessness. The deluge is inescapable, learn to laugh. Look at the world around, this ordered mess. How many times do you feel thankful because it wasn’t you this time? Happy that it was that family halfway around the globe? The girl in the TV screen? Let it show, the world won’t love you any less for it. They’re all the same.

Under your veneer of virtuosity, I know what you are. I bite you when you’re cold, singe you when you burn. I pick at your scabs, I knock down your reading lamp. Believe it or not, its actually all you.

You cannot fight me, I will always be. Try it, social experiments always serve to fascinate. Pick up the knife, tease the grey blade into exploring your marrow. Until your insides throb. Malign your blood, try, for however it blots and clots, it holds together a race; but that is inconsequential to you and me.

I am why you feel. I am chaos. I am you.

__________________

By no stretch of imagination are these my thoughts. Forgive me if this is disturbing.
Listen to Vicarious and Sad but True over and over again. Read Sylvia Plath and look up Munchausens Syndrome by Proxy and MPD. Watch the season 5 finale of House MD. You can't not question identity then.

Okay I'm off to make pizza on those little bases you get at Nilgiris.