1. Love?


What is love?

Here it is.  

Love is the irresistible chemical miscellany within you, deceiving and enticing, clinging violently to your core, lingering and deliciating in your agonised longing.  

It frecks, passes so fleetingly, ever present on a now malagrugrously heavy mind. Twisting and contorting your very being. Kenching, so enjoying the widdendream.  

What is love?  

Love is the flurry of illecebrous propositions and corruption, which floods the mind of the gobemouche and plunges him into a state of bumwhush, converting him through delicate celerity into a mawmsey, dumfungled, morfound mess of a man.

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