A Return to Form.

It might not be good for me, it might not be healthy for my hell-bound soul, but... bugger it.

I've had it with the moral high ground.
It's done nothing for me. It's been an interesting experiment, but no good has come from it - other than the realisation I am only any good for the moral low ground; The desert where good morals and decent, grown-up, respectable and coy behaviour have no place, and romantic love rarely blossoms.
I've been wearing the 'good girl' costume for a while. It doesn't suit me.
The goody-two-shoes pinch and rub and chafe and squeak 'not mine, not mine' with every step.
Best slip into something more comfortable. Off with the concrete knickers. And as the physical barriers come down, the emotional blockades are going firmly back up into place.
Ain't nobody getting through these bad boys.
God help the fool who falls. Ali's back. And this time, no prisoners. It's all out war on the romantic world.
Sorry, moral compass, back in the box. I have no work for you right now. It turns out people just aren't interested in a nice, respectable, 'take it slow' version of me. So, I'm giving up.
I'm giving in.


Let. Them. Eat. Cake.


More fool them.