I’m self absorbed, it’s kinda my thing

Without apology or reservation.

 

I find myself spending less time in the “world” than I should.

Perhaps its delusion, but I self-sustain my social needs with my internal army of a hundred.  We have conferences and caucuses, parties and pow-wow’s

We defy the movement of the world beyond our veil.

 

I lord over a conceptual landscape where I am all powerful, all knowing and ultimately desirable.

I go to extreme pains to draw others into my terms of existence for fear that I can’t breath the air in theirs.

 

The veneer I have over the universe I share with the rest of the world is a desperate fantasy, built from rubber ambiguities, impervious to external assault.

 

I’ve infused my illusion with so much confidence that it is transferable, tangible.

If anyone lets me, I feed them my tainted influence.

I revel in the opportunity to infect.

I mourn my inability to connect.

 

 

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