http://www.abeautifulrevolution.com/blog/absurd/index.html

In a Gothic theme park, we sat for a while. Drinking whisky from the bottle, eating jellied-eel from the stream. Tongue tied and hazy, I started to dream. Unimpressed and eccentric, she ate from the stream. Then a butterfly passed, and she let out a gasp, and I could no longer tell, if my dream stood a chance.

In a Gothic theme park, we sat for a while. She watched butterflies dance, whilst I played Russian roulette with my heart. I loaded the gun, wrapped my finger around the trigger, took a deep breath, and left it all to chance. 'Kiss me,' I shouted. Oh how she laughed. Playing Russian roulette with my heart, whilst the butterflies dance.

In a Gothic theme park, we sat for a while. Drinking whisky from the bottle, waiting for my chance. But she has left me now, in this gothic theme park. Wishing we could start afresh, take back all I asked. Nothing ventured nothing gained but oh the pain. Playing Russian roulette with my heart, whilst the butterflies dance.

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Check out my new distraction: Andre Jordan. I am mesmerised by the fluid simplicity with which two seemingly uncomplementary images fit together so perfectly in 'Playing Russian roulette with my heart, whilst the butterflies dance'. My heart is now aching in a strange kneading way as I picture this whole Burton-esque scene in my head; it's not difficult to imagine Johnny Depp in all 'Edward Scissorhands' self-deprecation as the male protagonist, despairing as delicate butterfly wings brush his cheeks as a reminder of his fragile, fleeting hope. Ah.