How long can I lie aslant consumed by the chasm of emptiness?
Dear, not-so-content-lover-of-mine, will you accept me for my skewed up cynicism, and my need to be victimised?
I need a distraction, as the very thoughts are consuming my head day in and day out.
Perhaps, the concept of forever is a myth, and I sit here, laughing out loud at my spirited naivety. Like the old aunty would say, "How innocent!".
And I can sift back and forth of real and unreal, of thoughts in my head and the real world sarcasm.
What a joke have you made of yourself?
Perfection is a disembodied feeling, you fool.
Laugh out loud, as perhaps, that's the only way your heartaches will be neglected.
The need for venting out has been quenched.
Suspiro ergo sum.