Love is something we use to believe in before repetition kicked in. I am more in love with the poets and the undiscovered word than her, you, him, them. The changing landscape on my heart is a dessert; baron and cold. A wasteland. As in life, there are the thrill seekers. Who live to seek to conquer the wild, unexplored, the mysterious yonder.
I stare at them. My mask in full display, clownish even. Big red smile and white paint and yet I am rewarded. Thus, becomes the beggar's banquet. A higher conscious, if it can be called that, requires for a funny type of punishment. A metamorphic slap in the hand without any long term effects on the great fun it all is. Empty and meaningless fun. Substance abuse
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