The Parasite in Me:

Something is rotting inside me and hollowing me out, a microscopic parasite filling me with hopes, wants and desires. Bruising me with dreams and endless faith. A parasite, a sticky bug withering me away to the depths of isolation. A leech feeding off of my memories and slamming them into me day by day, slicing through my guard and chewing away at my will. Some alien bloodsucker draining everything I have left until I fall from the stone I lay upon, till I dry out like a slug under salt. Some flunky, deadbeat stooge thinking it can get the best of me, thinking it can devour everything from the inside out. Motherfucker, you are wrong. It is called a soul, it’s the lock and key of able bodied men, it’s the unstoppable force against all matter in the universe. The soul, it’s the carrier of the sword and the stone. It is magic, it is thoughts, it is physical and it is unseen. The soul is armored, unbreakable, indestructible, firm, solid, durable, everlasting, however penetrable. It’s weakness though, is not in the fact that it can be penetrated, that it can be felt. It’s weakness it not in the love it ties with other individuals or the death that haunts it when they go. It’s weakness is not in losing a fight or surrendering to a stronger being. It’s weakness is not in being scared and running away, it’s weakness is not in hiding or in sin. It’s weakness only makes it stronger. Little parasite, eat away all you want, but when my soul gathers enough energy it will only implode and grow larger. The beam will only strengthen and glow throughout the night and the eye will only look farther into the distance. You may be able to slow me down, but your only allowing me a break so I can sprint farther next time. You will lose. You will lose like you always do, little barbarian.