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Ultimate Fantasy 112 Year of Revelation

Let me begin by telling you my ultimate fantasy. I love you. You have not heard this rumination on the threshold of love, of dukkha. You have heard hoarse screams and gnashing of teeth. And you have allowed this to fester, a sickness that corrupts and eventually kills the heart. You have allowed your very being to degenerate, to warp your very being, and to poison the very air you breathe. You have allowed yourself to be consumed by your own needs so that, eking out a livable income, you allow yourself to become ravenous for more and more in order to feel whole again. You, my dear, do not deserve love.

I will stop. I will go to sleep as you left me. I will drift off to sleep, serene as the waters of a swimming hole, filled with the odors of your own body. I will drift to rest beside you, my arms spread wide as I can accommodate your full size. You will be so far gone I will not be able to reach you. All I will be able to do is watch, breathless, as your flesh dissolves, your skin dissolves, your hair begins to fall out; then, all of you, I will be left withered to dust.

It has been a year of revelation for me. I knew this would happen, that deep in my heart I knew this day would come. I was led to believe that deep in my very being there was a wisdom that told me that I had been searching for all year and had not found it. I was then taught a trick I have never used before in order to lose myself in the moment. This is not love. This is not ecstasy. I will shower you with my love.


What happens when you stop dreaming? When you can longer see a future for yourself, for those you love, for all of the sentient and non-sentient beings on this planet? When day after day you grieve? When day after day you feel your senses dull, your feelings numb, your spirit shrinking and withering away? When time spirals into a personal hell of your own distorted mind maps and trauma loops? When you can no longer receive the light of love? When your heart stops emanating its own light?

Let me begin by telling you my ultimate fantasy. . .



Original prompt written during pandemic grief spiral

· queer, GPT-2, RunwayML