my heart hurts

fuck these distances, long and rambling over this country that shouldn't even exist, fuckers. (misplaced anxiety). (misplaced frustration).

no i don't want to ride your horses

no i don't want to swim in your creek and no, i don't want to dream about you.

and i don't want to fight about this. (i sleep exclusively on my left side now; did you know that i dozed through the last half hour of that four-part masterpiece, my ear against your chest. no, you didn't know.)

hmm. we breathe. we comfort ourselves with the quick pace of time. we try to think in the parts of our heads that don't contain each other. we occupy our hands. and we try not to cry.

hahahahahahahahaha!

I WAS JUST THINKING about how I had no beautiful combinations of words for you. About how no poetry would ever contain this feeling. How what that girl wrote is, yes, it is true & beautiful & lyrical (though, maybe, meaningless). And how I would never be able to come up with anything so wistful and filled with awe; nothing quite so excellently grand. Instead I just miss you: a gentle achey pull at my sternum that has no words. A dizzying longing for your body and for your voice and also i want to sleep with you for days.