His lethargic, almost comatose, crusted over eyes stare thirstily at me. Wanting to indulge the appetence grows increasingly obvious. As always, assuming they're a total Casanova, I proceed with my usual scutwork. Hoping to achieve mutual awareness between ourselves, I murmur talk of adoration in a hush toned voice, relaxing to the core. Searching for a common connection, a shackle.

It's relevant that history always repeats itself.

Loquacious conversations between us grow. For an instant there is a seamlessly flamboyant type of utopia, only to be snatched back selfishly. Miscommunication seems to run wild. What i thought was indeed nonsensical, foolish and implausible. Just as fast as it happened, it was all over. I had been done in and tapped out once again. Crud, sewage, slop ... call it what you will or just call it me. It seems to be that selfishness comes before anything else. Collecting my items I bite my lip and agonizingly move forward.

Fortunately for me, I can be salvaged yet.

I don't believe I'm nonpareil.
-- Madam

Art Created by johannek