Brooding god of understanding reading your soul like a children's book. Every detail of your psyche stitched together from the unsuspecting notes you left about yourself, scattered 'round the room. The way your posture meets my eyes and the way your eyes refuse to meet mine. Your tone and colors, choice of words and silent ques of breathing. Nothing you have hidden I have not figured out. I know you, better than yourself. I could recite your deepest fears and brightest dreams as if they were memorized flash cards. I guess it's a force of habit. To read so deep into the world that ordinary excitement has to me, become mundane and dull.
© cardinal404