India lost.

I dont watch cricket all that often and on the one day i choose to, we come this effin’ close to victory, only to lose this effin’ miserably.

I need a drink!

The Woman who tries out penis’ for size.

This will be interesting. I am tempted to go back to writing in my old cryptic ways, for once, in a very long time there comes a subject worthy of discussion in the only way i know it deserves; cruelty.

Think of it what you will and i’ve said this before, things that aren’t particularly of no interest to me are those that aren’t naturally accepted as interesting. I am different, this could get old. This is old.

I could fake anything, tears especially. They come in very handy. Secrets are often italicized, or are they better off in bold? Who am i to judge?

I am not a fan of short sentences but sometimes *sigh* Sometimes sentences have to be left where they are, incomplete, unclear, irritated. It is an assault on my memory; to think of a day when everything  just fell right into place – there is no such a day - it does not exist. No strike that – cannot exist. It is not in my nature to be perfect neither is it an advantage i desire.

She is trying penis’ on for size, wait till its perfect. She wants/craves/needs perfect. They all do, every single one of them.

 

In the end, Fuck, in the end you wont know a good thing even if it came up and slit your throat.

F.O.B

I’m always the last to know. My insides are copper and I’d kill to make them gold. Conversation got me here: another night alone in the city. So make my bed the grave and shovel dirt onto my sheets.

This is me standing in the arch of the door hating that look that’s on your face that says there’s another fool like me. There’s one born every minute.