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the rage is despersed,not dead and gone, but laid to rest like all things past that hurt seems to sprout from. the roots have rotted away, wattered to the point of drowning by the feeding to foo much thought. that happens far too often, but not quite as often as when thorny brush grows from the fermanted remains. the briars are like thier actions, sticking to my heart, tearing away at it...but i cant feel the pain, because it has been trapped and nubled by thier fingers, clutching to it like a child to its comfort bear.

but the rest of be trickles from between the spaces of thier hand,like water inching its way through a forrest ablaze with inferno. i flow from thier grasp; my mind and body no longer slaves to thier subconsious manipulations. tragedy has befallen them, but my heart has bled what it can. for even oceans have limits, boarders, coasts it canot wash over, lines it cannot cross.

and with these limits, i can now declair my freedom. my need for an opposite attracts them, but although fire and water can make amazing steam, life has now begun to boil over. the flames of anger have provoked evaporation. i am floating above thier petty arguments and futile fights and as long as they burn below me, i will not come back down.

i could rain on thier parade, thier endless bickering and nagging. i could also smash a masterpeice to smitherines. they are them, she is she, he is he and nothing can change that, just as none can bring me down as they have so meraculously accomplished doing. so i take charge now. i will not fight this wildfire. such beauty deserves to go on, but i can no longer attempt to tame the wild, snarling beast that is this.

so let all of you fevers rage, fan your flames, burn down every rooted tree who tries to befreind you. someday you will loose kindling, burn out, and new life will spring forth from where you once caused destruction.

i hope to see that day.