By Martin Falatic
You corrupted my mind… but I was a willing supplicant, after all. When did it all begin, the first spark that bridged the gap between innocence and enlightenment? The moment I first touched you, I think. Until then I never knew lust, only the sweet saccharine love that comforted my dreams and buoyed my hopes. An innocent indeed, though perhaps the seeds of doom are inherent in who we are, waiting only for a drop of carnal sweat to awaken them.
You corrupted my body a piece at a time, short-circuiting strength into apathy, fire into dying embers. My weight is a burden and my stamina, drudgery. But I let you in, allowed you to fold me into your form, that I would somehow understand you. I learned nothing.
You corrupted my spirit, breaking a proud heart. Prideful, no, but self-assured and earnest. Forthright and clear-eyed, I walked in the sun. Now I commune with the cold night and bitter rains, for the sun blinds me with terrible vengeance. I am lost with you, and I have no will to retreat from this embrace.
You destroyed my soul, replacing it with your own twisted desires and selfish needs. An endless cycle that appears ever-changing but is in fact a closed loop. And every bit I allowed, succumbing to you.
And still you have no power outside my forbearance, no comprehension or animus, for you are not a thing of matter and energy. But for as long as I choose to follow the path of your arrow to that infinitely distant bow I will remain bound to your whim, withering in the afterglow of all things past. And for that long I will be lost to the world I once and never knew.