My head throbs to the center of my cerebral cortex...downing yet another swig from some sort of tiny bottle. Lost in a room with no windows or doors, yet the latches seem to be unhinged somewhere, to allow this type of free escape.

I'm hoping with each sip that I put to my lips and take into the core of my being to erase the memory of you, to send you back to the vault of my inner most clandestine images and thoughts...

No avail, the drink has done me in...no hope of weeding you out. Your like a ghost sitting next to me, poking at me to reveal some sort of inner demon that has been waiting in angst to claw from the thin surface in which it waits and face not only me but yourself.

I wanting to allow this spectral force to tear us both apart...I see it now bloodied from the ferocity of vicious tongue waggling, blown to pieces with each sigh in heated discourse...

To over come is the key to righteousness...the thought of you not, is the way out of my latched cage. Let the bird of freedom soar? or the demon to prowl? are they both incorrect?