(no subject)
i remember the way the tv static wrestled with your eyes, flourscence of the screen seeping slowly between the cracks in our fingers. channel 43. nothing but mess. you fell asleep there, your back against the sound. (did i ever tell you how beautiful you make me feel?) the voices of accusations & what-ifs buzz inside my mind. but i'm used to it now. your voice is all i hear. i picture us colliding in airwaves. we break apart into scraps of black&white, recycling our heartbeats through each others' hands. we make nothing but mess.
so noisy. its breath-taking..