You.

Now you wouldn't want me to start blogging about things do you? Things that are rather private, for only the two of us, for both of us? For us as one?

No you wouldn't. But you would want me to speak of something, something rather hinting that of sorts. The kind of delicacy in gossip in which you approach the application of relational responsibilty with. Yes you would rather desire that in me. Probably an innate reaction to your own psychological need to do so. Which I rather, or rather definitely, enjoy. Seeing that you are willing to impose that upon yourself, I am rather pleased, and am compliant to do the same. For you. Just for you only.

Now, I do it in a different fashion. For you have described events, and carefully casually embedded mine, me, that which I (and you, both of us too) own, into the sexy symmetry, tapestry, and masterpiece of your apparently simple, natural, tiffann(i)ysh blogging and recalling, but I have drawn out it's beauty from it's psychological origin's. I've taken what's inside you and me and put it inside each of us, in each other.

I am heavily laden with sexual innuendos.

I love you.

The Unwillingness To Stop Acting

The Unwillingness To Stop Acting(, And The Willingness To Die Trying)

[Alpha]

And so I live in tired contemplation, knowing that

The glass will break someday

And then perhaps we’ll learn to see

Beyond the mirror in our eyes

We act our plays so well

That no one here could ever be

Unstuck, foot-to-foot, from

The mire formed between our lies

[Beta]

Have you seen a mask

So trite displayed

Yet peacocked in its grandeur?

I’ve never seen hypocrisy

With any kind agenda.

See males and females walking past

Eyes catching each, each stirring lust

They play the game to catch their tails

But back to dust; the courtship fails

Insincere love amounts to nothing

[Gamma]

And then the Violet in the grass

A beauty or a burden?

She took it in the latter form

Thus bowed her head in shame unsmitten

If you were her and she be grass

Would you be standing tall and firm

And will she ever need to bow

For her crime of being special?

…

[Omega.]

Thus mark the gallows in the lie

And graveness in the stupor

Would you give your life to die

But live in truth and vigor?