chapter 1
I awake sometimes with blood crusted on my lips and the front of my teeth. I would like to tell you that this is due to some heroic feat such as protecting a love. This, unfortunately isn't so. The blood on my mouth is actually due to my laziness to write a novel that will earn me any money which I could use to buy myself some lip balm.
You wonder why start this novel out with a story of a bloody mouth. But isn't that what love is? Blood on your mouth? The exchanging of bodily fluids in the name of God? I would beg to differ, but I won't. The cynics of this world wouldn't, and neither will I. I was once a lover, and if your not a lover, your a cynic.
Love is like blood on a mouth, and a cynic is like a droll tone of voice that never changes pitch.
So, because this is the first chapter of your story that you wish to see, I will try my best not to end each sentence in a profound thought that ends all things. I will also refrain by asking questions, although that will prove difficult.
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