Said it's my mistake, I make things harder

'Tis the season to be jolly well fucked.

December: our humble abodes all at once spruced up with holiday frills, scent of pine and popcorn in the air that both warms and withers our skin with the harshness of artificial heat. The time has come for tinsel and peppermint, for adorning these verdant branches of needles with shiny baubles of absolutely all manners.

Humans being creatures of habit and slaves to tradition, I imagine yours being more ornament than tree now, boughs burdened by all those miniature mementos of mounting marital misery. How much baggage can really be squeezed into such small stringed decorations? How much disappointment? But the seed of each has always been love.

And if love's the religion, I suppose that makes you the deity at its epicenter, the king seated on the throne atop Mount Olympus. You are the alpha and omega; from its frantic first beats to its feeble final beats, my heart throbs for the sake of loving you. That, at least, is one promise that you can always depend on me to keep.

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Conceptual Trap (9:11:23 AM): someone asked me tonight if I could choose between friends, family, or women

Conceptual Trap (9:11:26 AM): i told them all

Conceptual Trap (9:11:38 AM): friends, family...you'll all fucking burn

Conceptual Trap (9:11:48 AM): I have no delusions

Conceptual Trap (9:12:00 AM): love's the religion