Oh, how we trap the ones we love in a prison of their own words, their feet forever held to the fire.
How we hold them to higher standards, and demand of them the perfection they so themselves desire.
A specter paces the ocean floor, a hundred fathoms deep. Nineteen thousand tonnes of cold hard steel. Lurking deep, it prowls the liquid darkness perched solidly atop the nuclear food chain.
When last I kissed the edge of death, I sniffed its form and heard its shape. I saw its voice and trembled.
So close was I.
I groped at who I once had been, and channelled my self in that moment, seeking a glimpse of who I yet could…
Gaze not young man. Lest your mind be snared. Beware those curves which give chase the thoughts, and make race the hearts of men.
Spare yourself the torment and resist the urge to trace the lines of her back, from her hair, down to the lace that so poorly obscures…
Feelings worn on hips and bellies;
self esteem outsourced to spanks.
Perceived imperfections ruthlessly purged;
a fiendish dependence on product.
Oh what joy to rediscover a favorite song of old;
akin to a chance encounter with a friend thought lost to change.
Sweet, blissful serendipity!