fuck you's guys
there it is again; there is that flowing--that swirling--that moving, that crusading again. i can feel it all over again. i can feel the breathing slowly and randomly like the current of a masterpiece, and the dizziness of tumbling all over again. the nervousness disguised as the orgasm, the plague disguised as a friend, and i swear that i can feel it again. i want to break the mind that holds you together and use it to sweeten my poison for the evening, can you humor me? can you melt my being and invade its demeanor as we smoke a cigarette in a dimly lit tube of conversation while you humor me? can you imagine this imagery rolling off our tounges and into the light while it floats away from our laughter as we stare at the table that divides us? can you see that? really see that? can you feel it, and smell it, and touch it, and taste it, and really see that? good. i'm glad.