pb is not doing well.
he needs a woman,
sex,
validation,
back rubs,
shared baths,
a beautiful thing to protect,
a soft yielding strength to keep warm,
a trusted gaze in his corner,
long hair to idly brush with his fingers,
scents not manly or bachelor to come home to,
a voice of reason while leaning on the bar at last call.
he is too paralyzed by fear of rejection and lack of faith in his interestingness to approach beauty.
he drinks too much and contemplates morbid things.
he sometimes thinks hes past his prime.
he has no concept of where he stands in the hierarchy of men so he doesnt really know how high or low to try for.
he needs a change of scenery, a jump start, something to care for, like a kitten.
he makes too much money to already be broke on the 22nd of the month.
he loves October so much he can do nothing but lament the days of it as they pass and blow away like so many orange and brown once-alive things.
he can barely stand the beauty of autumn any longer, as he has no one to share it with who will understand why he feels like weeping every time his feet shuffle through dead leaves.
he can hardly bear to gaze on feminine wiles and smiles any longer because it causes more pain than excitement, because they echo in the black vacuum from which he stares out.
he shuffles papers and makes monumental decisions about things of little import to the world at large from within his shared cube, paling and slowly withering under florescent bureaucratic nonsense.
he dreams of power, love, goals fulfilled and paradise lost he never knew he possessed.
its so much easier to be cathartic when you don't see yourself as you.
he needs a woman,
sex,
validation,
back rubs,
shared baths,
a beautiful thing to protect,
a soft yielding strength to keep warm,
a trusted gaze in his corner,
long hair to idly brush with his fingers,
scents not manly or bachelor to come home to,
a voice of reason while leaning on the bar at last call.
he is too paralyzed by fear of rejection and lack of faith in his interestingness to approach beauty.
he drinks too much and contemplates morbid things.
he sometimes thinks hes past his prime.
he has no concept of where he stands in the hierarchy of men so he doesnt really know how high or low to try for.
he needs a change of scenery, a jump start, something to care for, like a kitten.
he makes too much money to already be broke on the 22nd of the month.
he loves October so much he can do nothing but lament the days of it as they pass and blow away like so many orange and brown once-alive things.
he can barely stand the beauty of autumn any longer, as he has no one to share it with who will understand why he feels like weeping every time his feet shuffle through dead leaves.
he can hardly bear to gaze on feminine wiles and smiles any longer because it causes more pain than excitement, because they echo in the black vacuum from which he stares out.
he shuffles papers and makes monumental decisions about things of little import to the world at large from within his shared cube, paling and slowly withering under florescent bureaucratic nonsense.
he dreams of power, love, goals fulfilled and paradise lost he never knew he possessed.
its so much easier to be cathartic when you don't see yourself as you.
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
We'll see though...
intense and painful, indeed. if i could, i'd grant your wish for female flesh, if only to inspire the confidence you should have that anyone would be lucky to have you. you should indeed go out and just knock a woman out with wit and intelligence, and then offer her an evening of delights (in public, politely, at least at first). you'd probably be surprised how much success you'd have!!
but no levity. none of that. gah.