Thursday, April 3, 2008
nothing has been properly planned, nothing has been left to chance. A living contradiction in search of the perfect underpants. Seeking, never finding, reaching, rarely getting. hoping, sometimes hopeful. Less a man than a boy troll child. Waiting for the chance to show itself, the surprise to know itself and my soul to sell itself. Lost in waves of non emotion, self manufactured satisfaction. these days i don't even feel the need to touch myself as my dreams become realities of grade B disproportions.