Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Do or Donut, there is no why

Always open

Shame is a dish best served warm...alone...sweet, maybe too sweet...late at night in a corner...the aroma suffocating the senses till the willpower is broken...and then the rapturous bite...mmmmmm....whimper.

Shame knocks and peeks through the door to see if it's over. It comes inside and sits at the foot of your bed, never turning around once to look at you, fixating on the glow of the television screen, the sound of a disembodied laugh track drowning out the tears of sweet, sugary failure.

0 painful displays of affection:

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