go away

obsessing. i hate it. a year and a half. still, some days. all i can think of. a sex dream and suddenly i'm uproarious. caterwauling on the inside. he said once after it was over. to crotchety. when crotchety was lamenting the lack of a fleshy girl in his life. and fuzzy said. you never know who is going to be right. not at sight. he didn't know upon meeting me that i'd end up being the best sex of his life. bastard. fuck you. the puzzle pieces. the sigh of relief when skin slid together. a flurry of stupid snow-like-sex.thoughts. from me today. i should stop dreaming. but no. why else do i sleep til the last second. but for the incredible clarity and detail. that i see behind my eyelids. sometimes i feel more there, than i do here. what is living? i sometimes wonder. what the fuck is living? i mean. do you know what i mean? i mean. is there someway of living is that MORE life than another way of living. is someone truly alive next to a somewhat dead person? what about somewhere in teh middle. what about staring out at life, but without the skills or the memory or the knowledge. without the tools. fuck my body-memory. remembering shape, penetration, taste, trust, liquid and mouth on mouth. the body is an amazingly beautiful and ugly thing. and the things that fit into us, or out of us. fucked up. beautiful. crazy good. i want to want someone else. now. not you. so go away .

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