30017239 - ProfilesArchive

About Me

.. .. .. ..TROUBLE LOVES ME.... I upset people, mostly when I'm drunk, sometimes not...a lot of the time when I don't even mean to. This is my talent/curse. If I've lost friends then they never were. Whatever I do is never enough...this is a blessing. From time to time and in brief spurts I some how manage to find a balance then take a well earned rest to look around and admire the view, this is usually when the ground cracks beneath my feet and the sky collapses in riven fragments...I tried to catch them once, oh never again I tell you. And so it's out of the comfort zone for little ol' me once more and headlong into harm...this is where I spend most of my days and if pray tell you should ever desire my sevices this should be your first port of call my darlings. Like anyone else I rally round the social circus but fail to make head nor tail of the signals folk give off, this 'failing'(if you must call it so) lies mostly with a lack of interest. I don't know what's expected of me and I don't know how much to give away. You know that phrase 'less is more'? Never got that one. Also 'Prudence pays'? Uh? Lost me again oh dear friends. So I just stagger from post to pillar choking on the same tired old excuses that laminate our narratives in a vane hope that one day, even just for a split second before the embers glow so slightly their last then fade, I too shall taste life...

My Interests

I'd like to meet:

THOSE BY THEMSELVES BY CHOICE....OR BY SOME REWARD. Collectively we are at best disposed to pander around insidious drollery by the loaded cart purely for the sake of exchanging fantasy. At the drop of a hat we give chase and dance to the rhythm of dissapointment and tarnish the song with such turns on colloquy as romance and amour. Singular we are hog-tide to a web of useless and redundant sentiments and morals that we foolhardily ponder sick bondage in ownership of...the truth being, they own us to the very last. Face it, humanity went out of fashion a year and a day past. We're just a bad idea, an old dream clinging to the smouldering shrapnel of mortar and red-brick of the tin-bath, two-up/two-down threadbare means of days gone when men were men, rape was marriage and choir-boys were easy meat. As for everthing else...We simply sensationalise to make just our own folly, that is all. Ah, but what of such things as love and hope? I hear your snivelings of riposte. Love? Love is greedy (though where there's love you can live, even without happiness). And of hope? Hope is just the currency of those who know they are losing. The closer you are to hope THE UGLIER IT BECOMES.