THE FLEA MARKET

From her lips escaped a whimper, as my flawless token was laid on the alter. This was not the time to falter, for around stood fellows of the dark clad in shadows of the fallen master. A sullen hymn was raised by the priest, to greet the icy fingers reaching from the east. Guttural exaltation echoed in the twilight, placing my beloved sacrifice in a peaceful trance. This was no Isaac to the cause for through her eyes her soul itched for a chance. Handed the sacred instrument of initiation, I approached my beloved with unsolicited invitation. My breath was that of a million, my senses were that of a legion, and my conscience was that of the vilest abomination. Her scream cut through the great hall, quickly followed by orgasmic sighs from the fallen. Bathed in the blood of my beloved's womb, I was eager to refresh my impatient ghoul Sweet to the tongue and smooth to the throat, my beloved's blood was indeed nectar. My long awaited initiation was finally ...

without a doubt I know what love isn't but then again I wonder what it could be is it the painted meadow we see on the tube? or the nightmarish stories told by the jilted? frankly my untamed naivety wishes love were everything. if love were a science, you'd be Einstein calculating E = my heart x C square if love were food, you'd be one arrogant Italian whipping up culinary masterpieces tempting my fickle will if love were a subject, you'd be physical education, working me all day and night if love were a car, you'd be a German engine cocooned in an Asian exterior but bully like an American my alter ego seeks to reason with my naive self but then I still wonder: if love were a season, I'd be summer time drawing sweat from every curve and crevice if love were music, I'd rock you like MJ, teach you like Marley and conquer your ecstasy like Jay if love were a sport, I'd be Kobe, Tiger and Messi all rolled in one and still be reffing the ga...