There are moments like these, strange and juicy, waiting effortlessly to be popped. If we should happen across one such small thread of time, the challenge shall remain undefined. To stretch a second, to fuck the ring of all eternity -- there is no truth more real -- except perhaps in the sticky, slippery wetness of sex.
Pretend to clear away the moldy cobwebs of indifferent disgust. But I, for one, sense insincerity behind that plentiful smile you wear day after day after (blah, blah, blah...). Deceit, unadulterated, reflects flatteringly in your eyes, as I would have expected.
Age seldom mellows those who most need it. Yet, a fire can learn to burn sparingly. It can be taught to destroy only that which it does not need to survive. This is the path taken by some sadists and nearly all freaks.
Sequins catch the light and hold it for ransom. No one pays and the light is set free. It nibbles like little rodents at its own embarrassment, but cannot coax even a small tear in the fabric that shields its nakedness.
Another lesson learned; another dream explodes into the sunlight, unseen. The sleeping cannot see their crimes. So, I shut my guilty lids and try to seduce a new dream. One lies beneath another, each dream reflecting the one before.
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