i need a new hobby, something nice, like knitting or meth…

and i am still drowning in the sensations of the dream that whispered to me that you still smile when i call…that you still giggle when we hang up…the dream that forgot that you really sigh or flinch or both in some order or another…the dream that played sprawling images of how you smile with the corners of your eyes…the one that turned the twinkle in your eye into a supernova that seared mine…fumbling in the dark for days…living proof that love can cripple…for awhile at least…at least not left at least not right…maybe the neurochemistry of desire can kill…i wouldnt doubt it…i still wear sunglasses, even on cloudy days…i wouldnt bet against it…i hear echos of offhand phrases in the spaces left between beats in the whitenoise of life…ive turned to reply to echoes of you in airports, coffee shops, and at least once in the car…love like acid, stored in the phatty tissues of my brain…randomly freeing flashbacks of what was too much to be consciously remembered…

~ by psqd on 7 December 2006.