New Blurb (sans titre)
i thought i knew every mistake to which never should one partake, and that was surely the trick, or so i judged. miss judged. turns out it had nothing to do with the power of know-how. not this time. i was your expert on my own fall from grace. because. you see, it was all or nothing. no. instead. this time. this time it was desire that got my goat. got my goat and let him gobble the neighbour’s garden, ever-ripe for the picking because brain cells can always die, though rarely will the reverse occur. few and far between were the voices of reason and none but desire could calm the mind of fire. like cowboy pulp in a hot bath. don’t be preposterous, i want you as you are. otherwise, who would suggest to bring a bottle to your lips for lasting effects like. Korsakoff’s. Syndrome. (you know the kind i mean).
