The Book of Things Could Have
Each time you open the pages of The Book, it is harder to close the volume.
Because each time you open it, you am filled with longing and yearning, and a desire so great it eats up every single particle in my body, so that for hours on end you are consumed by nothing other than the heat of my own desires, eventually leaving you with nothing but extreme weariness.
And each time this happens the feeling grows stronger and the pain grows deeper and the weariness, thicker. And so each time you close The Book, panting from exertion, you swear to myself; "Never again!" and shake your head. "Never shall I look upon that Book any longer!"
But if that is the case, why do you always long to read it? Why do you still?
PEACE OUT


