Hope Sandwich: Eat, Pray, Love, Eat again…
She stood in the kitchen, looking out across the expanse of the distant jungle valley as the sun rose. Untold millions of dew drops reflected the red glow of a dawn. Time stopped, and ever so slowly, all of her pain, her hatred, her failures began to evaporate just as the mist on the valley floor did. Through the panoramic windows of her incalculably expensive tropical mountain escape, the light from the sun was reaching her, it felt today, for the first time. Today, there was finally purpose, a reason to go on. For the first time in a decade, she awoke to hope. Hope, a feeling she had come to distrust. Had it not been hope that broken her heart? Had it not been hope that had led her to wait for love to seek her out, and not the other way around?
Some perhaps, had not the money or the arrogance to wile away the years in a psuedo-philosophic travel, funded by a divorce. Many would laugh at the seemingly small problems of one woman, especially one so wealthy. There was nothing to laugh at today. Today there were only tears of joy, flowing without provocation from the corners of her eyes, freely onto her cheeks, and even dripping onto her hands. Her hands, touched now by tears, could let go of all of it- the disappointment, the resentment. Her hands could also literally let go. She literally let go of her erect dick with one hand, and the pillow-case of live kittens she had been jacking-off onto with the other. Today, for the first time in almost a decade, there was no need for jizzy kittens.
The tears came without restraint. Tears of joy. No more jizzy kittens. No more.
Then, like the bloom of a perfect rose, like a single falling leaf, like ripple on a pond, Predator sliced her in two.
A Haiku Moral:
Patronizing bitch,
jizzy kittens and bullshit,
Predator got you.
