Repulsion

Even in my dreams I find no asylum
Seamlessly transitioning to a more conscious labyrinth paved with clarity, fortitude, destruction, and that confounding indescribable, that seems to morph and adjust, but always gripping to “me".
It would seem that my two options are to change and prosper, or retrogress and cease. The tilt slides me from one spectrum to the next with unpleasant frequency but I find my home sits uncomfortably in the between. Craving the heights, then higher, while the abyss sucks me down, ultimately never moving.
The repel of the poles.