Doubting Thomas

Well, Thomas chose poorly for sure and for certain. He chose by his inability to choose, or act beyond his imagination. Thus he remains on the speeding ship, held fast by doubting gobs of mire, which will hold him steady to the gangplank, whilst all the while sucking him deeper and deeper into a sea of tension and unbecoming behavior, altering him permanently into a bitter rancorous old man, sucking all the life out of him, particle by particle through his cracked and neglected toenails, in an agonizing slow soul sucking whirlpool of stress. Oh where is the pleasure in that I ask.

Pleasure

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