Thirty two years and counting I haven't found true love yet And I am not considering unrequited love I've been there twice The first occasion was during my MBA To cut a long story short I simply couldn't pluck up the courage To tell her how I felt When I eventually managed to do it It turned out to be a case of locking the stable After the horse had well and truly bolted The second occasion was an arranged marriage Where the engagement brought us closer to each other Or at least, I thought so But the issue was, the girl didn't And the pandemic pulled us apart Metaphorically as well as physically Thus, that didn't end well either Now that I am single again Thanks to this amazing human invention called "divorce" The hunt for true love continues Before we proceed further, though Let me get this off my chest I am a work in progress, not a finished product And I have my flaws But then, we all know the saying Nobody is perfect Everybody has some flaw or the other In fact, it is these flaws That separates us human beings from robots Which are equally intelligent as we are, if not more But I am going off-track The point is, I need someone who loves me as I am Of course, it works both ways If I love someone with all my heart I would do anything for her I mean, anything that comes within the definition of "ethical" And I wouldn't want her to change one bit I mean, as far as her character is concerned Now that we are all on the same page It is time for me To resume the hunt for true love Of course, we all may have our expectations But I ask for only two things Unwavering loyalty and trust And accepting me as as I am With all my flaws And when I do fall in love I hope and pray That it is reciprocated, for a change
jaeger. chasseur. foxtail. seduction of fascism in mind, like tumbling autumn leaves ever and always on the steps of a country house. always and ever just outside the aix-les-bains dance hall. his blousy new bride and her old lover aware of his sympathies and the danger he presents to them.
jaeger. chasseur. foxtail. seduction of fascism in mind, ever and always on a deserted alpine road. always and ever one trail of blood, remnant of the preyed upon. she screams against the glass, quiet devil in the backseat haunted by the disorder of his own mind.
eyes opened to his own mutability. alienation is immanent, bred in the bone. a desperate need for gravitas, built upon vaporous credulity. and she is pursued through the woods ever and always, through iridescent fields always and ever, until finally in his crosshairs she falls.
those like him have not suddenly vanished from the earth, but are merely lying in wait.
I have been yearning for true love For years and years For decades and decades I have seen it in movies I have read it in books But to experience it in real life Is a different feeling altogether Of course, when you have lived For as long as thirty two years It is utterly impossible Not to fall in love At least once, or maybe even twice And I am not even counting crushes They are as ephemeral As the life of a mayfly is The love bug has bitten me twice However, on both occasions The love has been more lop-sided Than the recent Men's Ashes On the first occasion I was slower than a snail By the time I finally confessed my feelings The girl was already engaged On the second occasion It was an arranged marriage After two initial meetings Followed by two months Full of frequent phone calls We had a rather simple engagement Since then, it was apparent That the going was smooth Even if it was a long-distance relationship However, just before the wedding The pandemic chose to strike The marriage had to be postponed By five frigging months Consequently, things were never the same again Mind you, I was very much in love But, as I mentioned earlier It was a long-distance relationship And I could sense That slowly, but surely The girl was beginning to fade away And the marriage, when it eventually happened Was an absolute trainwreck Now, a year and a half later I am single again And the quest for true love continues This time, I hope and pray That when I do fall in love again It will be duly reciprocated And will be as long-lasting As the love That my family has for me
I hope that our few remaining friends Give up on trying to save us I hope we come up with a failsafe plot To ******* the dumb few that forgave us I hope the fences we mended Fall down beneath their own weight And I hope we hang on past the last exit I hope it's already too late And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here Someday burns down And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away And I never come back to this town Again in my life I hope I lie And tell everyone you were a good wife And I hope you die I hope we both die
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do Yeah I hope I never get sober And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out You'd stay the hell out of my way I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die
There may come a day, as I say, when you may have cause to sing this song. I hope that that day never comes. At the same time, I know that it will. Let’s not kid each other. You're going to have a very bad relationship someday. It's not just gonna ****, it's gonna **** ***. You’re going to make up a little chart of all the ***** that it *****. It’ll be your ***-chart on your bedroom wall. Your significant other will say, 'What is this?' and you will say 'Oh, they’re butts. Just butts.' and they'll say, 'The hell they are; that's an ***-chart!' Where will you be then, O Sinner? As the great worm that never dies curls its slimy folds around your naked heart, you will need a song to sing. This is that song.
Ah, the fallacy in talk of tree limbs and fragments of the broken-apart.
Those scars opened a rare window below the cloud tops and into her room, where a new dress of fallen leaves hung in her wardrobe, fleshing out her understanding of how that blemish lingered long enough for her own intentions, hidden behind the frown, to surface.
The myth in her eyes wishing they could say, "Might we share this fall together?"