Dead Streams

wanting to need and bask in the glory of everything sacred yet, every time it begins to feel safe and almost near something approaching comfortable. I drop my defenses and start to believe, then ... out of nowhere a bludgeon, a smashing of lenses bewildering confusion ensues, and it's all erased judgment has fallen condemnation reigns supreme taunting all reason for even being. and yet, you say you love me? you dare to say you care? how does this treason explain anything except crazy. demented is the robe one wears while chasing old rainbows down dirty, dead streams ...