I am totally beat. The Lust has been living inside of me since shabbos and just existing with it is completely draining. It's kind of a morbid routine now. He shows up with a fantasy in my head; I shake it off, move on. I keep praying that G-d doesn't present me with an opportunity to act out, all the while feeling in my guts an intense desire to do just that. That's also exhausting.
You know what I kind of feel like? Anyone ever read the story of Sinbad? One of the journeys he makes takes him to an island where this decrepit, wrinkled old man immediately jumps on his shoulders, clamps his legs around Sinbad's neck, and refuses to let go. Sinbad can't get free; somehow the geezer's legs are too strong. He starts trying to go about life with this guy on him, but the old guy steals the coconut when he tries to eat it, knocks the water out of his hands, etc. And Sinbad is just getting exhausted. Pick up a fruit, knocks it out. Pick up a fruit, knocks it out. That's me.
(As I recall, Sinbad wins eventually by making some wine, which the old guy steals and drinks. And he keeps making more until the guy gets drunk and Sinbad can peel him off. Anyone want to try to bring that in to the metaphor? I'm too tired to make it work somehow.
Smith