Whine, whine, whine, then cheap wine, then whiskey or gin or maybe smack?
Thats pretty much me.
Except this time I am not shouting at the TV, or drinking myself silly, or drugged out of my stupid brain, or threatening to top myself again.
I am completely gobsmacked, lost in my tracks.
All the poems and words of broken love, written forever.
Always the pretty ones, the ones who drain you of your soul and happiness before letting you down.
Myspace, a great tool.
Myspace, a great new generation who swear by its loyalty. A kind of non judging lover, a God and saviour.
It ruins lives. Private profiles. Know what I mean?
I'm older than Myspace and I like to talk to people and look them in the eye.
I pride myself on my honesty and I give time to people who need it.
 
I'm smarter than a haircut, I choose not to be ignorant to the evil of the world. 
Some hide from it behind a pretty image which reflects nothing of a pained soul. I whittness and love the real human inside those I care for. Looks are a bonus are they not?
Dreams don't come true in the real world. Not like TV.
A man like me is rare, I don't lie, I don't cheat, I'm romantic, caring. I give my all to somebody I love.

The Myspace generation scares me. Those who only socialise confidently on these sites. All I want is to talk. Keep in touch with real people in my real life. 
Real love only knows. Not my image on a photograph.