Presume, assume, the anti-bloom

I do not presume you to know my soul.

To understand how far this cave travels below,

To pitch a soft light in the deafening darkness.

No, I would not presume so much.

I do not presume you to know my mind,

How quickly it spins and toils fibers of thought into twine.

 

I do not presume, do not assume

anything so heavy as that upon my shoulders,

here within the echoes of my chamber.

No, I do not.

But desire outweighs presumption.

Desire overshadows logic and tears at the sinew of reality.

She is a haunted and deadly mistress.

 

I do not presume I shall let her in,

Though she knows my every sin.

She knocks, she knocks…she stands too near.

She whispers seductively into my ear.

I do not presume to defeat her.

I cannot be so naive.

But should she swallow my soul,

Even that she will never know.

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