Passion is the first step to a four letter word. I have seen the car wreck of desire laying overturned in the ditch of life. We all gawk and stare, wondering if we are going to be next.
We wake up every day with the preconceived notion that we can live without indifference and ennui. Somehow we get this idea into our heads and we insist on revving our dreams to the redline in a quest for the elusive and vague energy called passion.
We run and caffeinate our drab existence with the heavy breathing of unfullfilled promises. Each moment of the day hungering for the energy of, we know not what. Food, sex, fashion, friendship, all intermingling. Drenched and dripping with the gooey concept of what we want and what we have.
We find ourselves living stories that have no ending and hoping to end the stories that have only middles, and only the slightest of beginnings. Reading between the lines of blank pages. Lounging on the sofas of our legal pads. Holding tight to the tooth-marked pencil that scribbles and doodles our inconsistancy away with idle habits.
We hold our breath in anticipation of the word we dread and also pray to utter. The restless longing to say what we all know.
FUCK
Dabuoy
