some kind of underwater love.

Without the fishes, only the envelope of almost all the senses.

you up for this?

The air just keeps getting colder, enough to be felt in my dreams. A real presence during early mornings, even if your body is hot enough to melt butter.

Getting cold.

Know a better way to be warm?

the other one will understand.

Even the loopholes of your mind, or perhaps feign it perfectly there will be no difference.

For some reason, you fear that this just might be the case, that the former is just an ideal of the mind. Unlike orgasms.

And this fear puts you on the edge, and to the point that at times you will seriously contemplate jumping (although you will wait for the push).

Then the wind comes and the sun sets. The cold has teeth, all incisors.

Holding hands is a much better recourse than this, you think. So you go back

I saw you today.

Inside me; I think I saw your teeth, them beautiful whites.

Smiling. Interactive memory is daydreaming? Oh.

But I load it up every time there is a wonderful chance of leveling up, even if it all comes crashing down when I switch it off, and the memory card often fucks up and you see, I can't save most of the time.

Would have been beyootiful.

But the thing is I would still be able to see you, almost anytime.

Anywhere.

That is the wonder of it. The 'almost' then just to state the unpredictability of being human and the vulnerability of being human. Because you'd realize that everything is bigger than anything you will ever be once you get past the truth that being unique is only a state of mind that only the youth belong to.

until I return.

Can I consider myself lost.

A question and a statement. Or have I ever been found.

More of a question now. Something not to be concerned with, just a thought for the rainy days. Perhaps a walk in this afternoon sun would warm some things.

Climate control can be so cold at times. More than you think.

Are you still young? Or going somewhere? Just a few seconds away. In taking and in giving, there has to be more. Or should there be less.

I guess, therein lies the guilt.

new songs.

The littlest bones in my body knows.

Meanwhile distraction is having no effect on whatever familiarity is left.

Dislocated seems a small word now, an understatement. Walking alone here can never give the same feeling as walking alone back there; there just is no connection, only yourself to connect with.

Worse is the night sky embroidered with the orange nightglow that never seems to fade, the sky is just a void.

It swallows up all the conversations in your mind when you look up at it.

Concrete.

some twenty forgotten reasons.

of why. and an ellipsis of whys.

yes, a continuation of our battle against strangeness. and our own closeted emotions,

that I think we might have forgotten being human is more about feeling. than thinking logically.

so please put down your cell phone, I guess it is better this way.
unencumbered by the intricacies of technology

just you looking at me, me drowning in return.

yes, better this way. nearsighted as my vision,

but true anyway.