I is Out of Stories
Ice is dominating when I is dominating. I then see a blur of an image of me that your eye is gaining.
But, do you blame me?
What I is probably saying is that it wants to dine your Self that's decaying. You're bleeding, but have never intended to flee, because only this way you won't feel cold feet. I can play that song on repeat.
Don't you feel obsolete? No? Not even now?
I always try to beat that gloomy sense of self-adoring that sounds boomy, makes me intense and, hence, want to crush it with the boring old ways of snatching fake joy and camping in the land of self-defence.
And it doesn't seem to be going anywhere in particular. I tell It - "See you later alligator!" But that's one hell of a muscular infant, running back and crying "Tell me a story!"
I think I is out of stories.
My desired one is far away, not in this realm. She's not from those "Hi, how was your day?", the dryness makes her vomit, She's deaf, feels it all with her stomach. Small talk is a waste of words, big talk, nothing I hasn't already heard.
Does I even need more stories?