taptaptaptalktalktalk
I should be sleeping, but for some reason my frigid fingers won’t stop jumping around the keys and they don’t tap-tap-tap anything substantial, no, nothing choreographed, just something spontaneous… a makeshift dance. I haven’t got any grace to share, just a wry smile and an awkward stare from the other side of a room filled, to the brim, with people who talk-talk-talk but no one says a thing. I have no words for you, because as we’ve discussed they’re inert, and it would be insulting to spread small talk over the vast blue plane of experience. I just want to walk, link arms, hold hands and understand where we come from and where we intercede; a venn diagram of you and me… let’s form a relationship inside the shaded-in oval, a ring of opal, a heart crossed promise encased in aluminum.