Go, Tamerlane, go.

As the football spins in the mud, and I careen around the center-back to meet it, I realize that in this noisy moment, when my striker is telling me to pass the ball over to him, and I am working my pace gradually, threading my way through the defence, I will find my serenity.

The ball misses the goalies outstretched arms by an inch, and I'm in. I kneel and feel the hands of my teammates hoist me up onto their mud-caked shoulders. And the rain fractures my quadruple identity into a million little pieces of hope and hesitation.

Something of a discolouration.

This from a fellow blogger - Katie West. She's very talented. Really talented, so to say.

Where I decide to throw you overboard,.

I am the woman who deserves so much more than you. I would’ve been the greatest woman you should now admit to never giving a chance. The woman who would have done your laundry, and baked for you. The woman who would have sucked your cock in the back seat of your car and fucked you better than anyone ever has every time you came to town. You could have stared at my perfect body, my disarming eyes, my soft skin while I read in coffee shops and discussed with you the theory of getting what you want. I would’ve kept you safe and made you feel loved. I am more than everything you ever thought you needed. You would’ve thought I was too good for you.

And you would’ve been right.

Day-glow cologne.

I am leading a dangerous double-life. It will get to me. Till that day, I will have to rue my time. Cash in on immediate profit, ease up on the merchandise, the works.

Yellow Submarine Crashed. In a field full of bagels, cologne and popcorn.