Angel

It’s funny how similar the pattern of love is to insanity remarks the Merovingian. I agree; Yet I concur faith in that insanity.
That moment in which one understands what Marvin means when he says “She smells like angels ought to smell.” Or when you can smell her hair and understand what Poets have been writing for ages. Or when you watch her sleep and know how a mother feels for her baby.
A Dame to Live for… A Dame to Die for… A Dame to kill for… A Dame to be Killed for.
Dame… Damn.

Monetarious Maximus

I always try to tell myself that making money is a thing simple enough. Every time I look at people around me, the feeling only gets reinforced. The only trouble is the standards I’ve set for myself – to be paid for enjoying what I do, doing what I love doing and doing it magnificiently well.
Darn it, even that forms a very wide gamut of options… Sigh.
Anyways, I was reading about the millionaire who’s behind the publishing house “Dennis”. The entire fortune is based almost singularily on the success of the most sold men’s Magazine around the globe – Maxim. Dennis was in shambles till Maxim happened about a decade ago… then Maxim happened.
Like Dennis, Should I start by getting me into a jail first?

Intinerant

Being on the run gives me a supercilious feeling. Even if I may not be doing anything worthwhile, I feel at comfort with myself if I’m just doing something. I might be running around from door to door, from pillar to poles, even in circles. I need to be running.

Flogger

Another day. And there I was, trying to hide away from it all. The questions, the mess, the prospects, the ideas, the speech; everything. Not wanting to bother to scream. Waiting and waiting and waiting. “Everyone saying different things to me, different things to me.”