Binding

SURVEY IN FULL AND WITHOUT REVISION THE LOT YOU HAVE COLONIZED. INSULAR GARDEN, CELL BENEATH AN OPEN SKY. YOUR FEET CARVE WINDING TRACKS LEFT FOR THOSE YOU LURE INSIDE. "THIS IS THE WAY," YOU SAY, WITH MOISTENED EYES AND INVITING POSTURE. YOU KNOW JUST HOW WELL IT WORKS. THE SYMBOLS WITH WHICH YOU ADORN THE WALLS ENGENDER AN INITIAL TRUST, ALLOWING UNDETECTED MOVEMENT INSIDE WHERE YOUR IMPRINT IS LEFT. STENCH PAINTED THEREIN. SUSPICION DISABLED. THEY LOOK BACK WITH FAITH AND SYMPATHY UNTIL THE FEAR COMES. VULNERABILITY FULLY CULTIVATED OPENS THE DOOR TO PSYCHO-EMOTIONAL TYRANNY. ALWAYS UNDER THE GUISE OF A HELPING HAND, OF SACRED SELF-SACRIFICE. AND WHEN YOU FINALLY SEE THEIR FACES IN FOCUS, MARKED BY PAIN AND TERROR AND DISGUST, YOU WRITHE IN THE SHIT-PILE OF WEAK, SPINELESS APOLOGY. WITHOUT COMFORT FROM SEMANTIC TRICKERY, YOUR CLUMSY SEARCH FOR G-D. ALONE WITH THE ALONE IN A COWARDLY OLD VOID. NO MORE HARM DONE. HANDS ARE TIED. TAKE AWAY THE MOVEMENT. TAKE AWAY THE SIGHT. TAKE AWAY DECISIONS. LEAVING ONLY THOUGHT.