should the poles meet as often as they do? if formed by hands on high, why lay ecstasy and pain as the first clay? opposites within the same woman, the same flesh. release me from this poison ******. it is death. surely, longevity passes over those who submit to its bitter tang, the moreish pain that lives beyond parting. when the highs and lows call a draw, where can one turn? I am defeated. the game has won. I can feel nothing alone. where do i sign?