Roy and The Psychic

A complete stranger made me aware of your presence today. A fissure created by some distant and forgotten trauma allowed you to slip in and inoculate yourself into my core; this is how she explained it. With her third eye, squinting with purpose just beneath the surface of her smooth forehead, she stared at me and called you out. You responded by embracing me tighter, causing the prickly feel of piloerection to ravage every square inch of my flesh. And now there is no going back. I feel you, everywhere and in everything thing that I do. I feel you in my strut, which at times is decidedly masculine. I see you hiding within the depths of my dark eyes, brazenly looking back at me. Then there are the dreams. Dreams in which I am not myself, dreams where you slip into my skin and live out your all consuming desire to be alive and breathing, made of warm flesh instead of the nebulous, intangible substance you’re cursed with. And they are always there….fair, and soft and fragrant. Touching them is like coming home. I wake from these dreams feeling peculiar and slightly violated yet intrigued beyond measure. They’re like remembrances of another existence; both foreign and familiar.

She said your possessiveness is a danger to me. That it keeps the best parts of me imprisoned behind a wall of ambivalence. ‘Not too close’, vehement urgings in an otherworldly whisper. I hear this every time he seeks me out. With a sadness that runs deeper than any ocean, I obey…..because I’m powerless against the influence you exert. It’s like fighting against my intrinsic nature, so ingrained you are. How do I rid myself of you? Is that even a possibility? And if it is, do I really want to? You are all I’ve ever known….