So is my contempt showing? Sighs, the poetic Muses can be a fickle strange bunch, leading the writer down many a strange path. The piece is SO different to the poem put up earlier, which seems to have touched a lot of readers, that one is about a strong inspiring soul, flawed, yes, but enriching. And now i am motivated to write about losers involved in a sleazy downward spiral of their own making. A very new century thing. So contempt, perhaps yes, but rather that than pity. There is no coming back from Pity.

Let’s manipulate each other
With our tragedy porn back stories
Let’s make the other cry
Care so much

And if I am lucky you will hug me tight

Take me to bed
Listen with awe and wonder at my bland life
Mother me and I will smother you
Just the way you need

Oh yes let’s do just that

No art, no intellect, just stories
Embellished ‘til shiny sad
Likable, tasty frozen tears

Or perhaps
One of us will stop this ‘victim for kisses lark’ and say
Let’s NOT.