Insight into the mind of the Beast

(enter the Beast, as, in his mind, he contemplates his fairest Beauty, imagining his would-be lover cast upon a bed and enwrapped in swaddling lace)

*he grumbles to himself*

‘I am the beast
And you are beauty,

You are my feast—

so do your duty.’

Duty?  The Beast is whacked-up on duty!

What a pity since Beauty, so pretty, wants love, not duty.

Yet Beast wants sex, good sex, the best sex from Beauty.

She’s doleful—if only he’d ask, not demand.  And create with passion.  And caress with his hands.

But Beast is beast, ‘more than a man’.  Beast is the seminal yeast.  And he epitomizes the power of rising.  And he wishes to infuse his beauteous booty loaf as he so strongly wills to might.  He can surely promise that.  And he knows she knows  he can.

Yet Beauty wafts, in this constructed space, like an ethereal aimless essence amidst his heavy, driven desire.  Then disappears, as if into nothingness, right out of his unmet imaginings.

And ‘she’ leaves him wondering: ‘What has a man that I lack?’

On the average, Xanga goes down about every 8 days.  The higher peaks of greater stability are farther into the past.  Yet, they've just thrown a Windows 2003 server into the mix, so maybe new peaks lie ahead? 

I know, I know: the dog keeps tripping and pulling the cord out of the wall.