Amounts of the Intelligibile

It amounts to nothing more than that which you have (not) vowed to put asunder.
Blindly ignoring the truth as it appears to you.
The very elemental substance of your soul.
Refusal to nurture the child you give birth to and become every second of every day.
The you that becomes you.
The next you who becomes you.
That poison infestation,
Chemically implanted on the flesh housing your soul.
Mapped and imprinted on the retinal substance of all you may perceive.
No escapes allowed.
No permanent vacation.
No time off for good behavior.
She Waits,
This marksman lurking in an ivory tower.
Pounce at hand,
Talons drawn.
Whiskers extend to the intentions of my soul.
She knows my every move before I can conceive it.

As her eye grows ever wider, the comfortable obscurity I found in shadows
Grows ever brighter.
She will not be denied.
While present or in absence, this lion taming Eilsa
Permeates the holy tattered, war-ravaged, trampled on, beat down mask of a persona that houses this empty dusty drinking gourd, and...
As I await inevitable burning embers, mind scrambling for a comfortable ledge of understanding to alight upon,
Around me, enveloping me, and without deniability,
Atmospherically pressurized, uncontrollable responsibility
Raining down upon me from every side.