A Far Cry Beneath This Weary Heart

"I'm over her"

... is probably the purest variant of self denial ever known to men. I don't blame the low life fool who does that to his own wretched life because I was once in his pathetic shoes.

That makes self denial the best form of masturbation that we all yearn after we crash and burn in a love story that sank faster than the fucking Titanic.

The manual stimulation of your pride for your over-rated dignity.

Yes, our pride is somewhat like a genital that needs to be pinch, rub, lick, stroke, suck and whatever freaky stuff you fucking do in the shower that you think we don't know.

But when the pleasure is over and when it's time use the paper toilet, that’s when we fucking realized that we're just kidding ourselves.

Masturbation is fun but it just ain't the real thing.

I was fucking minding my fucking business and doing my fucking dirty deed when in a fucking instant I just fucking realized that I was in that “familiar territory”. What if today is the fucking day that I fucking bump into her?

What if she is with someone new?
Could be her brother or father or an ape dressed like a man.
What if she’s wearing a fucking ring?
She probably bought it to scare away them horny pursuer
What if she is carrying a baby?
Probably a lost kid she found near the vending machine.

An endless array of what if’s swirls inside my fucking head as self denial mind try to strategize how am I to react if I really come face to face with the devil and all of her splendors.

Maybe when I see her coming, I should pretend to be talking on my cell and use it to call my other cell phone, so that it would appear that I have fucking moved on and my hectic life leaves no space for her. What do you mean pretend? I am that fucking busy and my saturated life doesn’t even have a place for a speck of dust. I have places to go to and come back from.

But every time a someone that looks like her comes near, I swear my heart wanted to popped right outta its socket. But as soon as I realized that it wasn’t her, my balls would unravel and I would chuckled at my foolishness. I secretly let out a sigh of relief.

Seriously, there is no fucking way; she would fucking bumped into me, alone, pigging out in a KFC outlet with my mouth and fingers so greasy that it would put any Chinese food to shame.

I would rather die than be caught in that fucked up situation.

I died that day.

There she was standing in front of me, looking different but still the person I adore. The ring, the child and the someone new came true like they were some sort of biblical prophecy.

My self denial defense mechanism was telling me to pick up my cell and call myself but I seriously doubt it’ll be convincing.

The masturbation has gotta stop.

I'm the paralyzed soul
I’m the crippled love
I’m the loathsome low life that has awakened up from all pinching, rubbing, licking, stroking and sucking. What kind of heart would I have if it doesn’t look back? I must admit that I really never had the choice, when it came to her.

She smiled and they walked away, leaving me and my greasy mouth & fingers, petrified. Staring at my half ate fried chicken, I really cannot remember a time when my favorite food in the world would be so tasteless.

Is this closure or just a chunk of my flesh being torn away? If only she knew that I am still trying to put one foot in front of the other, step away and get on with my worthless life.