I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
Like an arrow hits the target I hit you, seeked you out, with somnabulistic certainty.
You wanted this pain.
You wanted to be dropped like an old tattered toy.
You expect this from others, so you get it.
Fear it, hope for it.
The joy of recognition.
I shift shapes.
Before you grab what's going on I grab your soul.
I make your dreams come true; even your nightmares.
And you are deadalive.