Intermission

How fickle can the night become? Mm, lets just humor the mind for now and count the ways, but afraid I would run out of ink and page before the answers are penned down for all entirety for some poor soul to stumble upon it and should they read it, if they can read that is. Half the world is blind, the other ignorant. Simpletons, truly.

However, we have come to the intermission... now is when the mind plays the devious tricks upon the heart... and the lingering fires of the soul. The stage has been set, but, it would appear that the puppet master has grown bored of the game and the puppets have just been placed with in a little toy box and left upon a high self. Oh, what a rusty cage we sit in. The illusions have been played out, now the truth behind the curtain and smoke and mirrors are revealed for those that have the keen eye and sharp mind to take note of it.

So, what we have here is a pretty little doll house, and pretty little figurines that are there collecting dust, well hog wash to that whole debacle. I refuse to sit on some self and just wait and twiddle my thumbs and expect something to happen. Seriously?! It is out of the question, I refuse to take this with my back turned. Oh no, no, there will be no snide remarks that go unheard, plots that are unseen. This will be a full frontal attack.

Intermission???

Now that is just the perfect time to introduce the foreplay before the next carnal lusty act to take place. For the next scene, the next act, the next draw of life to begin. While one might be taking an intermission, -I- however will not be. Pawns are in place and set to place roots, and leech information.

Now, that sounds evil. Perhaps it is. But time for nice an polite has come to a bloody end. It is time to turn the tables and drive the dagger home and true for the last time.

Expectations...?

I have none, never did. Just the illusion of hope. The faith enough to be allowed the fanciful indulgence to dare ever hope for anything more than what I have right now... Will this mean I give up... please, when has anyone known me to ever give up? Hm? Oh... that is right, --NEVER-- It is not in me to give up, I am a stubborn wench and truly I do not care.

Opinions?

Everyone has them, and the brilliant thing about them, they mean squat to me, they are like asses, everyone has them and they are full of shit. So let them talk, let them have there little truffles and wine, for I do not give two flying tarns at the moment. It does not concern me, it matters so little in my own world, wrapped in my selfish desires.

Love?

It is just a dirty word, used as the pink ribbon tied in a bow that combines, lust, passion, desire, possession and the many other wonderful human emotions. It is fickle, for --IF-- one truly, honestly, loves another, they give all, forsake the rest, and expect nothing in return. They do not hold out for the hope the other will return those same emotions, that is lust... that is the carnal natural desires that are sparked in us as humans, as mammals.

Trust?

I have it. It does not lack. I keep few friends for a purpose, I mock others for a reason. I keep people at a distance. Less I let in, the less that can shatter trust, the less that can bruise the heart and leave a valley so empty that it swallows me whole, leaving me to wallow with in the crippling pain of the lost half. Trust your enemies, at least they are constant in their actions. The hate you or want you dead. How can one differ in that path? Hm? No... see it is the ones that you let in, that gain and earn your trust, your blind faith that without fail turn it on your and just run you through with the sword and expect you to bat an eye lash and let everything be all right. When nothing is all right, it is so wrong that shit smells like roses. Are you kidding me? I can pretend with the best of them. Act and give them a show. After all that is what this is all about.

My Illusion?

Is what every I deem it to be. To become and be anyone I so choose when I so choose. I know I can will away all the pain if I so choose, or I can cling on to it like a life line and use it to fuel and feed the illusions I weave. I am not the soft flighty sort of woman. Some think I like them... oh, but if they knew the truth, afraid this compassionate, devoted, loyal, strong, woman would just crush their sensitive emotions.

Hurt?

Yes, yes I hurt. Yes I feel, acutely so. I know the pains of many things, have seen things no other should. Have been through things that should have been my end, my ruin. And yet, my skeletons, my past, my secrets, my sins, my dark desires are not to rule me, they do not define who I am. They might damage a reputation, but a reputation is not who I am. No one truly knows who I am. And that is the way it will be. I do not have to please people, I have no need to. I heal for I am good at it, and it is one of the driving forces in my life. Cos and my children are the other two.

Curtain call...

The draw of the curtain and the show must go on. The show does go on. So we give them a little spice to gossip about, we give them some fodder for thought. IF they can even form two thoughts together, more than likely not. Some can, and those are rather interesting people. But... when the holy trinity, the mind, the heart, the loins, all come together in unison, that is when mountains are moved, that is when dreams come true, adventure is laid out. When Spence and anticipation are the addictions... So sweet serenity... lets tango shall we... give the mob something new to fret about. How many can we make squirm? The lights are lit, the audience is waiting with baited breath... we shall keep them no longer...

Never turn your back on a tempest, for her siren's call will still assault your in your inner ear...

Trust me... Trust in me... [Nothing but empty words without honesty]