Fable.

The Sad Minotaur.

Zeus gave the King a bull to sacrifice, I don't know why. Things like that happened back then. Anyways, the King was greedy for this special bull and attempted to trick Zeus by sacrificing a different animal. Zeus was angry. And so to take his revenge on the King he made the King's wife sexually attracted to the special God-Bull. At which point the writer, me, starts to wonder why the fuck he is writing this down in the first place, oh yes, I remember. The Queen and the Bull make passionate love, as the bull was quite horny, cough, they meat and make passionate love and send the King into a blind rage. "What's your beef?" The bull asks, and "Yeah man, don't have a cow", the Queen adds, but this only serves to enrage the King further and he murders the Bull as he should have fucking done in the first place. The Queen falls pregnant. The earth is still. The King paces in fury. The heaven's wait, and nine months later a boy is born with the head of a bull. He is the minotaur. The King goes mad and builds a maze beneath his castle from which the minoatur can never escape. And people are afraid. Of the monster in the maze. But really, heis just a sad, little boy, trapped in a maze built by his step father, who raged and angered against his mother's love.

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Time to stop writing poetry. Time to bring it back a few years to the sentences which never stop, which trip, delight and stumble over little punctuated creeks and squish face first against solid walls! Like that. Time to stop writing poetry. Time to stop wrting at all, until I can write the truths of things again, the tales of what has been and where I'm going and maybe together we can work out just how the fuck to get there.

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I've made the wrong decisions, for what I thought were the right reasons.
Now, I want to make the right decisions, for whatever reasons.