How can anyone continuously reel from life’s blows and not stumble? The weathered soul who emerges from the ashes of betrayal must never again harbour any desire. Every storm must leave an indelible mark on the tree trunk no matter how proud and tall. And all men must regain their sanity in their own company and not of those who show no mercy. Kill the beat of desire before it consumes thee for thou was not born to love.
Friends, Indians, Canadians, lend me your ears. If the world is your oyster what happens when the pearl leaves never to return? Hear ye, hear ye. Love is a four letter word (cant you read you twerp?). Keep the heart in safe refuge away from foul temptations. Hear ye, hear ye. Sow thy seed in the vile field of pubic hair and keep on the relentless search for other pastures, so that when the land is fallow you may not wither from the hunger born of misplaced affection.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
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