I’m finished making sense to anyone but myself. So this time I am writing an alleged attribute of dissonant dysfunctionality.

It was strange honestly. She walked in and my mind walked out just as quickly. As if it wanted to say “Yo. Dude. You don’t need me here for this shit. Peace home boy”. I was in a cloud at the time so I couldn’t see what was coming. If I had been able to see straight I would have probably walked a different direction. But hindesight = 20/20. Actually. I think its more  like 3.1415926535897932384626. But that’s just a guess.

Anyway, back to our unstory. That was day 1. The beginning of the beginning really. A three year beginning in fact, or at least that’s what I hope. Since then fate has been playing russian roulette with me. So far the score is Me 0, Fate 7, but I’m pretty sure she’s cheating. Is it normal to use a Glock in this game? If not, then we’re going to have a good long talk about both the black roses and the shining beauty of that music she makes with her alto sax. That is if I ever have the chance to again.

You see the violent angel has been encapsulated for her own safety. At least that’s what her loved ones believe. Maybe. I dunno. But this makes things difficult for me. I cannot feel her weaving her web around my face now. It’s been days in fact without anything more then a phantom echo of her favorite tune in my head, and by the Gods she has my solace plugged into her ears.

I’m just hoping she’s alright, and by the time this is over, she’ll still want to feed me the drug of her kiss. Drinking in my soul, and spitting it out in the fountain again. Squeeze, Bang, Crap. Me 0, Fate 8. Seriously, I call hax.