It seems that what I try to do these days, creates a war inside of me. One side screams for just a taste, while the other side tries with all its might to stop the screaming. The first side fires its arrows of pleasure, when one hits the target, then great apathy comes, then, the final blow comes with a shot gun shot of guilt and shame. The other side fights all of these darts, attempting to use the weapons it has been taught, but discovers that practice does make perfect, and recently, practice is, what is not. To and fro, to and fro, like a giant game of tug-o-war, only it seems that one side is a bunch of two year olds, and the other a huge nasty guy who mysteriously seduces the side that could so easily trample him.
Listening to: Weak for the Man – Carla Cook