you know

dream-residue-is-metallic. on the back of the tongue. it settles heavy on the shoulders like dream-dandruff. i miss lust. i've ventured into crush-land. a little bit. but lust is still something my little brain has turned off. i've found myself thinking weird bitter thoughts i never expected. looking at people and wondering how many of them experience empty lust but never that excellent connected lust that makes everything feel just electric and right. no awkward mishmash of tongue and saliva. sex. i can't imagine someone yet. except. and i can't do that. so that's why it sneaks into my dreams. positive that many people experience the real thing. but even more, settle. don't know how to even recognize the real thing. why do i think i do? i don't know. i wish i could scrub this skin free of the things that linger. of the tastes that spark the buds. i wish i could be a dashboard. a chalkboard. a board. free of nails. not built into anything yet. just raw material. i wish i had the force behind these muscles that pushed me to be what i want to be. i wish i didn't waffle between no longer liking who i am, and thinking i'm the shit.

you know?

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