November 28th, Year of Silence

I do not promote masochism, do not contain it, do not approve of it. I say this, but find that every road has led to obsession, which is masochism in a more developed state, but no less chaotic and much less elegant.

Fairy tales claim that it is possible to belong to someone who belongs to you. We are assured that there is comfort and safety to be found in the chains of bondage. To be a prisoner for your own greater good.

So soon, there is already too much of Cory in my life. I am disturbed by the resemblance he bears to The Corpse, in physical appearance and level of intelligence only. They have the brains of a turnip, and the good looks to excuse a drunken mistake.

What I am asking for is a controlled and subdued version of love. A strong medicine, in a small dose.

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November 28th, Year of Silence

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