snyderak
HA. Funny, Talking about control tonight. My dad is an alcoholic. I had sworn off alcohol. And here I am tonight. Just like my old man. Drinking..drinking..drinking to oblivion. Control. What an illusion.
On a basic level, we are mammals. We are driven by instinct. Our instinct manifests itself into emotions. We are steered by those in directions we don't even want to take. Then like whipped cream, or a cherry on a sundae, you have the reasoning skills.
She's cheap. I can't stand her smile or the way she laughs. None of it has any value. I need someone who doesn't care about money. Someone rich.
Strength lies in numbers. Strength comes from within. But really. Aren't those two ideas conflicting. If you are strong as a community how can you be strong as an individual?
They can't be equal levels. One has to be greater than the other. So where does strength truly lie?
The tables were set up in rows. The auditorium was silent except for the clicking of white and black pieces. The occasional sigh, or groan popped the air. A victory was a quiet one, an ignition of the air when the opponent realized he had check mate.
The barber held the blade. Gently. Like a woman's hand. Held it like he was going to wed it. Then sliced. His eyes lit up like the glint of the metal as it cut a fine line across the mirror. He left the solitude of his parlor and walked into the night.
The bench shuddered in the cold. Empty, it watched the expanse of the side walk covered with brown leaves. The gray metal work was shiny and iced over.
I held the half bitten fruit up to the setting sun. Tilted it, so it fit perfectly in front of the rays shining in my eyes. Juices dripped down my arm. The sweet smell filled the air. I tried to wipe my mouth but little bits of sand rubbed against my lips.