The Catalyst ....Insanity

who she has become runs parallel to whom she would have been if not for me. I take the blows and accolades as one knowing neither has the acid strength to etch the metal of my skin. I am her friend. She knows me more than that but titles don't exist for whatwho I am to her. She dares at times to look me in my writhing eyes, snakes recoil at her intense regard. A closer dream will sequence her in, when she was ten she held my hands , unclenching fists of fettish and denial a clever child, she made a game of guessing in which palm the past was more insane and which more calm, she knows not who she really is today the muses come and go and some do stay but she excretes a fiery self regret of what she did or didn't do and yet........ the tiny sapphires sifting from her soul are worth as much as others who are whole.