My fear has a stronger resolve than my will. Inconsistent. And makes me out to be uneasy and erratic in fact. But in the abstract, that is where the art is. The milk I know that I should be trading in for meat. The big picture accused of being conspired by men. Where the word of god was a casting call for those of like fears of change. I trained with fools and watched simple questions root out the foolishness in myself. It leads to no acceptable end. Only more lies. My will has a stronger resolve than my fear. It's been called a venom that's poisoned friendships that should have shaped my new life. In truth it discerns the bullies from the bullsh**, teachers from the tools. Either way it is messy and destroys the will. Do not tell me that you love me. It's a lie that you do not have the stomach to see through. Just stop.