`weltschmerz existence`

She finds a little sanctuary at the edge of his tongue.

~ a mesonoxian whim

when the light has taken its one last breath

Life has its own way of waking you up.

But unlike your regular mornings, though, the rich aroma of a white-hot coffee

Sometimes I'd like to believe that we are but trickles.

Flowing under the gravity of our destiny.

~ Mind you. I am not my opinion. Words are like feathers waiting to take flight. The moment I create them is the moment I throw them in the air. It is beyond my control on how long it will exist or to where it will set down. If you keep them, good. If you don't, good. It doesn't make any difference after all.  Until someone brings them to life,they are merely nothing.

But it's so fascinating how my words have perforated into her luscious skin, down to the dark side of her heart, and to the depths of her muted soul that she feels helpless nurturing her famished ego and starts to collect and devour sympathies from people whose O-scripts are wide open. 

So fuck you and the man who fucks you.

Oh! Don't get me wrong.

That's just my opinion.

Your world is too big for me.

To embark is to shrink; atrophy.

So I built a world for us and wander alone

I fell.

You dug.

In my thoughts, you swim. 

To dive into yours is my whim.