Do you now see that I really have a gift? I wrote to so many, the reaction was the same, disdain for connection. Because all I had was my words... if I had more and no purpose, I'd have their respect and "friendship". You can't write but I can read it all; you're weak with no desire for strength, too busy pursuing that which you want and need at the wicked and self-righteous side of the tale, thinking about moving on to the cell of your dreams, surrounded by every other happy prisoner that may feed your illusion that you've succeeded, the fools that believed in you and the world from the start.
I can't tell the lie you desire, work for all the things the world thirsts for in place of Truth, without going back into the prison, so there must be something I want more than you. See, "friend"? I'm fine Out here, "alone". I'm not looking for no possession, so staying away from me is indeed the best way to keep your obsession.
You know it's dangerous to have Dark Lover as the soundtrack of your lives, because you know where the loving darkness more than Light road ends.
Don't ask God; Smith is the one who can give you what you want.
