> the truth of thy hearts?

1pm. the rain is defeaning. the view outside my window is bathed in a sparse milky white, tints of greeh hues speckle the landscape and the skies are in a dull whitegrey, an empty aged canvas waiting to be painted-on.

the warm leftover carlsberg sits by my tableside; a welcomed mind-dulling reprieve the night before, now a dull liquid, bubbles afloat and drifting aimlessly ... and my thoughs inevitably drift / ...

... ... ...

to say that i had given up on the notion of love, might seem too harsh and made in haste ... but in hushed reality, mayhap there is no love existent in this mortal coil? mayhap the only truth/s that prevails; is lust and desire. the twin-truths of humanity. the twin-pillars of passion. the base human emotions we react on, the same basic emotions since the dawn of humanity, where language existed not, where we humans only reacted from base-impulses ... oh how we have since changed; humanity ... and how we have learnt to complicate everything ...

name me thee reasons for the things we do ... and there we have answer to thy love-malady = we ask too much questions. we demand too much. we want for too much. but i guess it's also fair to ask of these things .. for we humans need the security, moreso for sanity's sake, rather than the comfort of the beating heart? ... tho let it not be said that both the feelings of a pained and longing heart, and of the endless mindfucks, are not exclusive to each other ... for they are all intertwined, innit? and hence tis hard to let thee loins wander and not feel anything about it ... the climax is not the be all that ends all ... tis the hands held tight together and the feeling of comfort and warmfuzzy feelings that endears us ... the sublte hand caressing the face, the light touch on the back, face against face, non-speaking, the tender lips that speaks endless volumes with a kiss ... and herein lies another fault of man; for what does all that mean?

for they might mean everything, or nothing ... for lust and desire is all that matters in the end? satisfy thy body and carnal desires, and screw the heart? for love is but a fleeting mirage in the draught of the desert sands, as they blow about aimlessly and fill the landscape with their browned hue of indifference? and we can but do naught but sit it out, ride out the storm and calm our hearts and loins ... and hope that one day, the duststorms would stop ... or mayhap the storm is within our hearts in the first place? what then? ... for what is "love" anyways? a mutated naive sentimental heart given form? a manifestation of lust and desire?

i know not of these things. neither do i pretend to understand them and the actions that go along with them ... i sit alone with my warm beer and the defeaning rain, and feel the ache in my hollowed heart ... and i know that deep inside, mayhap i have given up on ... love and all its transient-trappings ... and tis not neccessary a bad or sad thing, for mayhap tis the calm realization that, in the end, nothing much matters but of your own self-preservation and of whatever left of sanity that you/ i might still have (might) ... and i hold unto that desperately and give it the warm that i so crave but am unable to receive ... and mayhap learn to love myself more instead ...

... ... ...

the rain has stopped. suddenly. as sudden as it had started. and the parallel metaphor overwhelms me within an inch of cruel laughter ... for the cruelty of fates and evil cupids escapes my wrath, once again ... and i give into the sun once more ... or at least try to ...