What would RTH do?

That is the question.

If I were in a highschool yearbook, they would vote me most likely to die of a lynch mob. That does not prevent me from opening my mouth and serving a warm hearty cup of STFU to people who deserve it. My dark scathing humor will leave no matter of existence untouched. My innocence will touch your soul.

Welcome to a warped world turned inside out and upside down. All sorts of discretion advised.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Mind over Matter

I hate the cold
Especially the biting chill of the wind
My fingertips are always frozen
There was a lot on my mind
I walked out with no gloves on
There was a tingling sensation
I worried there the sting would come soon
Yet I trudged on
My mind had a lot to ponder
Lost in thought I wandered
The longest I walked in winter
Till in a few moments I had forgotten I had fingers
When I came home
I looked at them
Glistening stiff and white
The blood drained and frozen out
It hurt like hell as dipped them in cool water
The blood burst against the tips thrusting
I soaked in every inch of pain in masochistic glory
For the first time in many winters
Mind had triumphed over matter
But to whom should I credit the joy?
Who takes blame for the pain?

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