| 6/13/2004 12:16:00 PM |
[ sweltering squalor and the lunatic scholar ]
it feels... like we're passengers. i just want, more than anything, to look over her shoulder. to feel her gaze wash over my down-cast eyes. anything. more than this. more than the strained cacophony of my voice trying to express six million seconds and years of emotion in every word. why do i sound so useless, when in my mind's eye i'm kissing her tears and troubles to dust and waves (the only solution i know)? how can you communicate ineffable compassion without the heart-beats? when your breath doesn't reach the other person, but stops short and gives only static? hrm... this is one sticky-slippery dilemma. i'll have to start singing over the phone, i guess... or else grab the wheel why you distract the driver with a dizzy rendition of "i'm a little teapot." *turns head around and buries beak in feathers* |
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Moosi
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