Jan 02, 2012 17:33
If I love the scattered remnants of humanity that strove to survive odds and punishments pitted against them countless times, would I send a single white dove to bear witness as I prove the worldwide wave of peace has quenched my rage and they are all forgiven?
If I love the touch of another's skin, invariably warm against my constant cold, can I not enjoy giving myself to the sheer, sharp moments of passion or do I feel inevitably dominated?
writing