Words.

I have a thing about words.

They mesmerize me, to put it in simple terms. Especially when they're cleverly laced up together to form what i like to call 'a work a of art'.

A masterpiece, if you may.

If you can understand the intricacies of the written words woven delicately into sentences so fine and captivating, you would understand what i mean. You would appreciate the orgasmic feeling a person like me gets just by reading a writing that was written to near perfection. Word upon word upon word of great exquisiteness sitting side by side in a straight line touching me in a soft caress that makes me quiver with pleasure. (And just so you don't get the wrong ideas, I'm not talking about anything perverted here.)

Why, you may ask, am I bringing this up now?

Well you see, I rarely come across writings that give me such an effect.

But on those odd occasions when i roam bookstores (or less commonly, the Internet) looking for something to sate my hunger for delicious words, i will come across these rare jewels amid a violent sea of ugly seaweeds. Unrestrained, I lap hungrily upon its scrumptious words. I savor its aftertaste long after my first bite. And i dream of it at night when i lie down to sleep.

Sparkling brightly, it takes all of my everything not to be consumed by its shining genius.

That, my friend, is the power of the written word!

And yesterday, quite by accident, i happened to stumbled upon such greatness. (Tho 'falling ungracefully in love' might be a better way to describe what actually happened.)

His words were delicious. Just the way i like it.
His writings exquisite. I couldn't ask for more.
His flow of thoughts deliriously good. How could i ever resist?
His was all i needed to satisfy that unquenchable thirst i constantly have for good writings.

The only fault i had with his 'masterpieces' was how few and far between they were.

But then again, with all great writers, taking their sweet time has become an art they've perfected in parallel with their writing skills.

So I've no reason to lash out.

Perfection is a waiting game. Just like a time bomb.
So wait i will.

Until the day he puts that brilliance of his to work again.

Oh Mr Blogger sir, at the risk of sounding corny:
You certainly had me at hello~