this is where we go in.

Addicted to screened fantasy. The game of results and fortunes that keep you flying, only to stiff you from feeling. You go to the other to seek and aspire. The exacerbation of the inspiration backs your myths and the walls you keep. Scar tissue in folds from traumas you’ve tucked, seek the other for your truths, reach the other for your healing, praise and criticize the other to keep pace from your caved reality. In this fantasy, play to up-keep, triggered love to unknown others so vast, or seething hate to comfort your reach.
Take heed, before you spread yourself for another. Take love as your own, take truths as your own, take hate as your own, take healing as your own. Serve this up to yourself first and foremost; wrecked is the game of reach. Wrecked is the game of needy. Wrecked is the game of emptying yourself for others instead of filling up yourself. 
It’s all surface until you’re willing to go deep. It’s all surface in the delights of pretty things. It’s all surface to keep blood stains from so-called smooth cover-ups. It’s all surface until you’re willing to bleed.
Because the fantasy keeps to the superficial. Hard-wired addictions will hold on to the hustle. Break the seal of the untold reality. Facing life actuality is not for the faint or the numb. It requires scraping the walls of the deadened parts you’ve buried. It requires mess. It requires pains. It requires ugly. It’s requires you to feel and it’s the construct of the soul.
What is sought from another is what is to be sought from ourselves.
Caked under the beds of your nails. It’s in the hard spots of your ways. Places you hide and stories you keep in the comfort of distractions.
This is where we go in.