I'll just come out and say it: does anyone know how to block tantric sex attacks? It's ruining my life

Sometimes my friends notice that I am sad and ask if it has anything to do with them. I want to tell them all: No, I don't hate you. You wouldn't leave strange and unsettling symbolism in my dreams or squeeze my internal organs would you?

I accidentally lost touch with reality but it was pleasant at first. I expanded my mind quite nicely and it became transparent like a bubble, and I took the miracle of life in. But then someone scared the shit out of me and I contracted abruptly, with a parasite stuck inside. It eats the most sensitive parts of me and spits out salt. A billion paper cuts inside my torso fueled by salt. On the liver the heart the kidneys the intestines the stomach. All but the lungs. The lungs have always been mine. I'm too embarrassed to say what's happened to the extremities.

I hate how powerless and weak you make me feel

It tries to tell me things but it creates these delusions I'd rather forget.

I can't take it, I can't take it. I want to rip out the bloody heat that's juxtaposed over my torso. My heart's bursting to the brim with love and salt, an incredibly foreign feeling. It induces rage in me because it's not the right time, the right place. It's not mine, it's not mine. I can't identify with the romantic goo anymore because the ghost stole it away from me and it's not mine anymore. My body is a tool now. Everyone thinks I'm in denial and I don't know how to convince them otherwise. The breeze blows the bangs over my forehead and I shiver in the summer sun. I never wanted to be a sensitive person.

When will I solve this mystery? I want to get rid of it. Someone once told me I have to spend more time with simple people to bring myself back down to earth, to temper the sight. But after he said that he attempted a clumsy try at seduction and I lost my patience. Another selfish person I thought.

I worry I'm in hell for my transgressions. I didn't rise to the challenge they posed in my dreams. The guardian angel isn't platonic anymore as a punishment.

I've become crosseyed from staring at this issue for so long. The world has become so blurry after I lost my sunshine glasses. I'm waiting for the day my eyesight will click in place and I won't need glasses anymore. But even when I wear my replacement glasses, I barely notice the difference, practically. All is clear for five seconds then I'm lost in my mind, the labyrinth of my issue. So, the world is clear enough. It's good enough. I'm not a perfectionist.

Stare at the blood red lips in the mirror