Fall of Rome

Since the fall of Rome, I have been searching and hungry for that piece of flesh that pervades even my sense of logic. Power to the mind, but the opening of the heart's wounds have opened another Pandora's box closed for years. My lips are burning with soretightness and my blisters on the inside are annoying the hell out of me so much so that I made reference to some feline dog on heat just last night after the long night out.

I am pissed at this moment with the crazy people in my life. This time I don't seem to have too much choices in running. I am afraid to wind up insane nonetheless. God, can you tell me why this is taking so long?

Perfection is the art of fireplay, or so it seems. Numb is the deed of sense and death seems to be the tune of the silly women looking for love in all the wrong arms. I want to erase the memory so I can lose the pain.

j.t.