“Stories full of metaphors are by writers who play the language like a mandolin for our entertainment, novelists, poets, playwrights, and other crafters of inventions." Yann Martel from The High Mountains of Portugal.
I scarcely write down my thoughts anymore and I rarely offer my opinion with spoken words. I am extremely passive and deflective. I have no interest in sharing my soul with the masses or even selected individuals. It is further evidence of my selfish nature hidden by a painted picture of kindness. I am not seen or if I am it is through a very cloudy lens. There is no desire to open up and discuss the loneliness, shame or emptiness within. I have been extremely distracted by trying to find things that I cannot handle anyway; friendship, companionship, love or sex. I cannot commit to anything but my own self torture and suffering. So I cloak myself in kindness, sarcasm and indifference. What if you want more? There is nothing to offer you but the physical desire to get to off on you. The separating of emotions from the pleasure by offering you some pain first. You must submit but I will not guarantee anything. Selfish and narcissistic with a serious absence of morals. Splurge and plunge, fuck and pray it feeds the demons inside your vacant soul.
"This could be Heaven or this could be Hell." Don Henley and Glenn Fry lyrics. Don Feder music and recorded by The Eagles.
