A Pleading Offer of Love

I am obliged to offer unto you, my friend, all of what it is that has made me up.  You have shown me kindness, and i can feel the weight of your character in your frustrated descriptions of your allies betrayal.  You have given me a distraction of frightful youth and elegance from...

To me, this place is the in-between, the purgatory.  There are none of the white hot self inflicts from butane and paper clips.  They have been laid aside, so too with all aspirations, floating downstream and gone.  The air here hangs still, too still to stand in the middle of the street with a machete and retrieve what has been stolen from me, as once done.

I am not here to fight, I am here to pay.  A perplexity, for my mastery was meant the former, but I cannot motivate to raise my hand, my weapon, against them.  ...but you... you are pure, you are young yet wise.  You do not deserve the strife that has been laid upon you, you were not built for it.

So I tell you, that I was.  This is the offer.  My hands are those of a master thief, a violent rancor of man, but most so that of a maker.  My heightened sense of spatial reasoning begs for pop quiz.  So make yourself serenity.  Use me.  My own best brush for painting this, I offer myself to be your instrument without pain or fear.

Please, I beg of you, save me from this boredom pleading for violence.  Motivate me, and release me from this prison.  Let me pay for my crimes, or let me compound them.  Either way my success is contingent upon your smile