It’s funny how he seeks perfection, expecting it from every direction,

He says she must have purity; in past in present,

Untouched, un-defiled, perfectly sealed ready for her introduction,

Yet in that one moment, when he lost the key to all that his soul desired, like the rest, he crashed to the ground, from the sky to the mud.

Its pathetic I say, pathetic the men today, all quantity but without quality– height, muscles, confidence– a man it seems outwardly– yet his heart is putrid, struggling and not that of a lion but that of a leech.

Its back to drugs sex and alcohol, back to flowing with the rest of them all  

To think I once thought you to be unique, strong, enlightened– to think I once thought you like me.

I smile at my stupidity.

xoxox