Anna Agonistes, Part 2

I have wanted for a long time to feel the security of chains; to feel the safety of a cage; to be framed as I frame my art.  I have wanted for a long time to give myself as a gift to someone who knows how to appreciate this peculiar gift that I am; for someone to own the gift, figure out what to do with the gift, and make the gift all the better for the giving.  So that, I too may play a part in this betterment -- that I may better the man for the giving, for the knowing, for the caring and exploring.  I may better the man for the exchange of ideas (not just power but of LIFE, of philosophy, of intelligence and creative spark).  I have wanted for a long time to do this.  I have lived for a long time with the illusion of security, but illusions shatter without warning with just a simple phrase or well-placed reminder.  I realize that life is only illusion; that I could live in a nutshell and count myself king of all infinity (to misquote Hamlet) if I merely thought it to myself strong enough.  Thinking is all.  Thinking is our reality.  Illusion is what we make it.

Give me, oh world, the one who will make me feel that cage, those locks, that steel, and whose bars are as flimsy as I already know them to be!

EDIT:  Oh ye whose precious gift is submission, never ever trust your mind to a man who will not apologize.  Beware, for they exist.  And it goes without saying, oh ye whose precious gift is domination, find yourself a girl whose first words of greeting are an apology if she has done wrong.  Because even if her wrong is your fault for being a pompous unapologetic ass, apology is graceful behaviour that trumps ugly pride every time.