Inside, among others who live like all humans do, the rain will fall on your ground. a family lives with purpose not reputaion. the flawed laws of misfortune, there in the rules of engagement. the option for knowing your opporunities never declares that if food were addictive, we would have world peace. sorrowed the soldier feels that the fool in love is a movice on confrontation. revelations sgared and told, the victor, litterally could confron and not control, contain or disatisfy. aptly eager I wait for regal conforts with beautiful lovers and a request for a room to run the floor. Servants please the ironic. I cannot hear her communicable perfection. even if distracted, the appeal of my female war god master commands my attention for I am a servant after urchin vengeance or an errant voice. some addiction drag like anchors for thirsts or hungers. Tired and possibly time spanned hidden, she intrigues me as I surveil and wait for my confidence to subside. Luxury freedom and comfort until I leave. I am free. Like all, my name is alone.
(the privada2 conversation)