there is no meaning in our world neither is there any meaning in us those that live it. it is then meaningless, for us, who are equally meaningless, to see this world through our thoughts, despite knowing there is no meaning to be found.

my heart is cold. i met her in early august, where the sky was as blue as her nail polish. even at first glance i knew her heart was as cold as mine. i discovered, and realized years later that indeed hers was much colder, crueler, deceptive. the first time i had managed to get her in my bed i thought i was victorious, untouchable even. as we laid there in our entwined love making, i had convinced myself she was mine. i told myself she was like every other woman, i could come and go as i pleased, with no repercussions. and in this moment i had lost. i did not know it yet, but im positive she did. as i gazed into the abyss that were her eyes she knew....she always did...
    i dont know what about her made me keep coming back. maybe it was the scent of her skin. in my final moments i still dont know... this woman, that had captured my soul and kept it in her heart of ice. it wasnt lust anymore, my friend. we talked, under the stars, over a cup of coffee; we laughed over our favorite books and scoffed at society. danced to music that appealed to her and enthralled me. she stimulated my soul and unlocked the coldest, deepest parts of my heart.
i was in love with her. and had convinced myself she was in love with me. now, i knew how all the previous women i had manipulated had felt. she was gone before February. her soft touch, her smile, her scent, the underside of her *******, her intellect all haunted me... i searched for my ice queen for many years, alas i could never find her, i still often dream of the memories we once shared.





i could not warm her heart of ice. indeed, i hope someone out there could have saved her from the loneliness i could not save her from. i hope someone saved her the way she had saved me. but, i surely doubt it.

truth is the currency of the few, its also the weapon of those that rebel, the few that are able to live and tell, thirsty for truth still not quenched, questions even after death, gazing for that one of a kind, the hard to explain, the undefined, information is power, and knowledge is a secret, and those that possess it wont share it, a crazy schizophrenic, maybe a psychopath, but the darkness that's been promised has come at long last.