~Intent~

***Insert disclaimers here*** ***The characters used in this first person p.o.v. Vignette does not belong to me. Zetsuai 1989/ Bronze* is a manga/anime by Minami Ozaki. *** ***This is an experiment. A.k.a. another perspective with regards to what goes on this guy's mind. ***

You, being here, is the absence of dreams.

I can choose to be lost there. To be lost in you.

I cannot run from your grasp, not even as you lie there, seemingly sleeping.

Sterile room. Hospital Bed. Patient living off on dextrose.

Dextrose.

I.V.

Pull the I.V. out.

I wonder. can I actually put an end to you as easily?

I half wonder if you'd come back to me. I half wonder if I want you to.

There is no point really. I can't quite stay here. But there is nowhere to run away to.

Everything around me reminds me of the feel of you.

The scent of your skin that cuts through my brain.

Your eyes ever watching--- sharper than the glare of the sun in high heat against the razor grass-blades that die beneath my feet.

Why can't this feeling die like the crush of green beneath black and white spreading into eternity?

I like running, it makes me think I can run away from you.

From all that I've become because of you.

I'd like to think I could run away from myself.

Black and white spinning into my vision like eternity. The only thing that can tear my thoughts away from your hands, lips and eyes.

Always, there is the feel of your eyes upon me. Deep crimson like the trickling of the only betrayal of pain after drowning into you and you burning into me.

It is not easy.

Not easy to not remember your lips against this body with the half-light of a distant morning filtering through your hair that fall like moon-glow. Like the tears that you never see glimmering silver against your sheets while you whisper of your love.

You are my lunacy. The light that floods my vision in my sleep.

I cannot deny you. And I hate it. Hate it for all the weakness that it speaks of me.

Hate is love without the logic or the reason. There should be no reason for being here. You are my damnation. And I, to you, am the splinter in your mind that cuts off the reason from your perception.

Your perception, trapped in that place where I can never be.

In that place where you can never ask me to be.

I wonder, can you feel me watching you?

You are as much of a prisoner.

Caught in the moment of claiming and reclaiming.

And the never-ending vicious cycle of brutal ecstasy.

You feed into me.

Would your lips parch without this addiction, I wonder?

But your lips refuse to part now, lover.

There are no words for you. No song. No more whispers. You can no longer tell me you love me as you claw into me and almost make me believe you.

You cannot convince me to believe you.

Not in the silent stillness of your longstanding goodnight.

One should not chase the fleeing light, lest you no sooner lose yours.

And then it would be too easy.

To make sure you would never haunt me again. Not with the things that have grown to be my weakness.

I wish I could reduce you to a fading memory.

Are you happy now, my love?

I am here just as you've willed me to be?

Why don't you wake up and touch me again?

Are you happy now?