Coffee House Blues

My heart is a mad and fluttering thing which both contradicts all semblance of rationality and sparks all idea in the form of intuition-imagination. Humans wander and buy, eat and fade and each and every one lives their lives through a sense of narration. Though perhaps I'm simply applying my perspective to man as a whole. How must mine differ from this woman sitting next to me, living vicariously through a mass market paperback mistaking sexual passion for love? Pause as I satiate the senses with food and drink. So soon and I'll be longing again for such things. If I had the choice I'd remove every ounce of desire from my being, I'd never long for temporary satisfaction but would rather find pleasure in each surrounding nuance in this infinite reality. How can one distinguish the emotions?