Full Moon Blues
It is raining today, a slow steady soft drizzle that the desert eagerly swallows like a dehydrated lover. My emotions are strteched out across the landscape to say I am torn would be an accurate assesment of gargatuan proportions.
While I click with my newest crush, whom we shall call the editor, on levels I never though possible, I am being mentally battered by the head cheerleader as I usher her away from me the only way I know how. Through pain, resentment and misguided intentions that ruin everything they touch despite how wellI mean them and know they are for the best. With my right hand I am spiraling from crush to emotional response and with my left I am destroying everything that has been accomplished over the last five years.
On the other spectrum my super model has begun to rely more heavily on me for solace and guidance as she goose stpes around, beside and finally through her own relationship issues. The raw desire this woman draws out of me is surreal, but little more than a genetical response to stimuli...or at least that is what I keep telling myself. For reasons unkown to my conscious self, my subconsious continues to tease and taunt my little devil with nights of passion and contentment only to dissolve these events with indifference and non-responses. The model could tell me to jump and even with my pure logic self knowing such a decision would be disasterous, I would follow her off the cliff and change my name to Thelma in a heartbeat. While the same reqeusts from the lips of my little devil would result in a shrug of unconcern and I wouldn't even spare a backwards glance.
It is raining today, a slow steady soft drizzle that the desert eagerly swallows like a dehydrated lover and my only decision is to pick which cup that has runneth over from which to quench my thirst.
You would think, dear reader, that such a choice would be a joyous occasion as for once, instead of a famine of souls, I now have a buffet from which to choose. I thought that too...
One of the seven sins is glutton, as in too much of something is sinful and detremental to ones well being. I would laugh and chastise those that would state, "that is too much, no more" and retort, "my dear friend, there is no such beast, this too much of a good thing." Mistakes have been made before and I am still human enough to err...
It is raining today, a slow steady soft drizzle that the desert eagerly swallows like a dehydrated lover, and here I sit still trying to figure out which cup is the one that will fill my soul.
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