masters and slaves to experience

i gaze deep down the throat of boredom and wonder if it's not what i have been scared to death of these past years. moving, but to what? i am verbose in my creation only to cover up what gurgles and burps beneath. the bored little girl in turn floods me with it. i am scattered easily.

but lately, things have began to strengthen. true, the blues gut me everytime but this time i become fascinated by my insides, by my reactions to small things that sting, killer bees of sadness. like him, i consume myself but only as far as to catch myself before there is nothing left to eat. the hole deepens everytime, my teeth sharper, an expert at self destruction. to destroy anything else would be far more challanging. you quit before it even begins, easier that way.

i have a challange for you: speak to three strangers tonight and find out something special about their lives


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