Thought & image blend with emotion,
creating a weird creature
of our own creation,
& then
we attempt to control this creature
with language, but the wild horses
of desire,
of impulse & sensation,
cannot be tamed by satiation
or speech.

We must accept the existence
of an empty space,
the place
where we exist;
the solitude
that will always be with us,
& that can not be filled
by consumption;
by that
which consoles & poisons
in equal measure.

Nothing can save us
unless we shred instinct
& learn to forgive,
& to accept,
that sometimes we are scared
& sometimes lonely;
sometimes hurt &
sometimes just horny;

that sometimes
we are nothing more
than another animal,
born of a capricious mother
& a vast,
incomprehensible,
indifferent father,

& that all we really seek
is comfort
& some answers
to our never-ending questions,
& that these motivations
are in conflict with each other.

But acceptance is not giving up:
acceptance is defiance.