does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?

day seven.

infatuation so easily (and readily) turns to obsession.
is that how it's meant to be.
conitunal fixations to distract from the reality.
it's a better life.
dellusion. feed the delude.
rather than face the truth.
marx had it to a 't'.
religion evolved to encapsulate a whole feast of allusions
or illusions.
never a single thing.
it never was so simple. so mono.
one. thing.
or it would have been nothing.
and as circles would have it
there'd have been no desire,
no need, no purpose. no. thing.
love is not a thing.
emotion is not a thing.
a dellusion. a personification.
and abstraction. a christening.
call me 'x' and i will be x
name me 'y' therefore i am y.
i have female genitaliar therefore i am a girl
therefore i will be a woman and a lesser human.
call me retribution
for i have speculation.
i have obsession.
and imagination.
and optimisim.
i am hot and cold.
i am contradiction and hypocrasy and all
the things i loathed to be.
and yet contementment will never be achieved
for i am delluded and deceived.
by myself and by my dreams.
by society and its impositions.
unavoidable, unattainable. indigestible.
this is white. this is black.
this is everything presented to you.
and the best part of believe
will always be the lie.