the word love is something like an ethereal solvent that dissolves into the air because lust demons and flawed emotions are too damned loud for such a soft and delicate instrument to exist and play with integrity. moreover, amongst other words, despite countless oppositions and petitions to this tragic misfortuned distortion of the word, rationality never once had the voice to speak up against the incessant squeal of emotion and her pleas, so such will be left so as long as people have the hearts to be tainted and bodies to be pleasured. such is life, but as a being of 'preferred' rationality i find it obtrusive for my embodiment of the word to be placed in the same caliber of emotions from men forever caught in the phallic stage of their growth and the subsequent mindless women who consent to their hedonistic and quite pitiable emotional flings and other such tom foolery. the diction is flawed, the speech -- loose, (as the women are) and consequently the fragile word doesn't have a place in such a sharp and blaringly colorless unrefined time. the word is too subtle for people without the patience to understand it. like a delicate bird, it would be crushed before it has a chance to fly away. From lack of good sense and virtue, great indignation for the lack of distinction between love, that which should be placed on the level of God, and infatuation, little peasant things.
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