I come then kiss her to sleep and the smell of burnt toast drifts around in here cause it’s so small what with kitchen next to the bedroom. Recently a thought come into my head, which was not right to begin with, but a thought came into my mind that love is the purest of evil thoughts. Animals and machines don’t feel it and they get along fine, nobody would ever accuse either of being an evil thing. But then again they don’t hate either, they just exist. But love, that nasty fucked up thing, which binds and creaks it’s invisible bonds and strings across all hearts that know it for a short eternal time, creates murder, and mayhem, and imprisonment, and The Need. Anyway, the story of how I got her here into my house and arms is not much different to yours, or hers or his, it’s not that interesting truth be told. You could rip a romance novel up into a hundred pieces and still find a few words or passages that would be the same story as ours. It doesn’t matter though, not in matters of happiness or sleep. She’s here and it’s all that matterzzzzzzzz.
A Thought Before Sleep Awakes