dolorous interludes.

my thoughts move to you with such alacrity. 'tis strange. havent thought of this certain -you- for some time now, and you'r back again. it was for you that i wrote "if love were merely eros..", and i think of you incessantly, like the heat that seems to radiate this little island of ours with an almost intense intention of burning us.

you burn me.

you burnt me once, by the fire of my silly passion for you, mistaken and misplaced; and by your fiery words of guile and goth. yet, i seem to stand yet so close to the firebush once more, ready to be taken in wholly by your sweet charm.

you write beautifully; i say this to you time and time again, because truly, each time i read your lovely prose, i feel as if we could connect, like the mild connection we once had, while you were still interested in what i had to say. if only you'd tear away your stupid stupid facade.

are bastards born bastardly or do they choose to take on this role? god dammit, women just love to hate them.

punch drunk love; hate breed misanthrope; aphoristic wisdom. indeed indeed my dear.

you'v got women all around you, twirled around your fingers, the very way you want it, and when you want it, you have it. this power you have, god, i only wish you didnt.

posted by voyeur @ 9/11/2003 01:10:00 PM