madness my love

Tell me you love me and I will stop this instant. Madness is lost. Madness is far healthier than normal, healthy. Illustrating madness is to pour OJ in your colleague's - the one you wish would go POOF when you do the snap-snap finger play while you pretend to whistle a tune - mug and drinking from that mug and then do the same thing all over again the next day. You can get away with it because you are the sorry sod who is hating yourself and role-playing yourself everyday, five days a week. Now, that's mad.

It gets hard when you try to stitch your filigree of thoughts into a quilt instead of letting it be - bullet train style, insane auditory rape or art-noise, supersonic speed and a few flying rats and roaches which didn't make it during the technological storm.

So, love me still? Madness has a way of asking you to ask yourself the same inane question without you blushing because your thoughts on love was never there. It is a way of getting attention. Yes, I guess I got mine, finally. Thank you for sharing it with me.