A question of social decorum.

I need an answer before I can post the story which gives rise to this question.

Ladies, those of you who wear the latest lo-risers with T-shirts, exactly what is a person to do who spots you bending over, let’s say to scope out a low book shelf, and expose in the act less than savory amounts of your butt crack?

What exactly is the custom, the protocol in such a situation? Do we, as men, simply retain our age old position as shameless voyeurs and giggle at your compromised modesty reveling in the misconception that since you wear such clothes, you suddenly and automatically become fodder for our wanking sessions?

Or do we act like the mature and god fearing and civilized human beings and as politely as we can bring the faux passé to your notice?

Or perhaps, we jump into selfishness and simply block the way our by standing right behind you to ogle away in solitude while our brethren quietly simmer away?

Really? What the hell are we supposed to do? The most obvious answer to this question doesn’t really go down so well in practice and the other possibilities suggested to me by other men I used to call friends don’t go down so well with my own personal sense of propriety. So I’m reduced to being crass and must ask with a deliberate lack of subtlety as to what the hell do you want us to do

Like hearts that burnt out, burnt down, burnt up in the middle of a lie that if true could justify centuries of love’s labor lost.

Like moths swarming to a flame they know will leave nothing but ashes of their own passion strewn across the feet of an unworthy god.

Like fields of gold sold for scrap because a selfish sun chose not to shine on them anymore.

Like everything that has been rendered futile by nothing more than a complacent smirk, a heartless smile, a swish and a twirl and a wink and a stab.

Like unconscionable love and residual hate; like unconquerable yearning and impotent reprieve.

Like you.

Like me.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Reaching out to hatred

How is it possible?

How?

I mean isn’t this the most absurd thing in the history of the universe?

Absurd-er even than the whole big bang theory and the humans descending from apes bit.

Even more so than S&M. And Pakistan’s bureaucratic protocol.

It’s so absurd that even as I suffer it, I fail to understand it.

I wonder if this how people who like being whipped before having sex feel. Totally helpless to their fucked up minds. Slaves even to what they know is just fucking dumb but still inexplicably desired.

It makes no sense.

It has no bearing in maturity or reality or even moderate intelligence.

And I’m pretty fucking smart.

Except when it comes to this teeth grindingly frustrating situation.

When it comes to this, I lose.

I fucking lose so miserably that it’s not even funny.

In fact it’s quite sad. And pathetic.

It’s so pathetic that it makes me want to break into my skull and crush the part of my brain producing this idiocy.

I’ve even tried, but it really hurts too much when you hit your head really hard.

So I gave up and sort of decided that emotional angst is easier to bear than physical pain.

But seriously people how can a human being be sane, when despite all his otherwise normal traits he suffers from this completely unexplainable, unjustifiable but thoroughly relentless state of dementia?

How?

I mean how the fuck is this even possible?

How the fuck can you be in love with someone you don’t want to be with?

And i don’t mean love as the passing fancy, it’s LOVE, the prophesized one, the kill or be killed for one. The one that digs its claws deep inside your soul and slowly sucks your life force away until it’s nothing more than ichor stuck on finger tips. Until you’re nothing more than the extension of what you have felt so strongly for so long.

It’s just freaking weird.

And such a waste

What a waste.

EEAARGH!!!!

Hate, please, come kill love.