Selfly Friend

I have a sexy friend. How do I. I am in love with Someone Else Or. I wanted to tell her I feel nothing for her or she doesn't matter to me. I have a textbook to read, but I only want to look at pictures of her on facebook.com. She looks like a movie star to me. I want to be in a movie with her. I have longings and passions and emotions that seem uncontrollable. They cause distress in me. I want to change something about my live and my living. I want to be with her at Spider House, at grocery stores, on the streets, at her home, at her parent's, and at shows and meeting new people and trying new things at new places. I want to throw clocks away and judge time based on her presence. I want us to reveal our deepest desires and help each other achieve everything we want to. I want to help clean oil spills and petition to only use clean energy that doesn't hurt nature with her. I want to live on a wide open plain of rolling grasses in a tiny wooden shack with clothes lines attached to it and it's windy and sunny and her hair blows around and she smiles and laughs and runs and we keep animals and go on trips closely and far away and we have families and friends we see them and hug them and tell them what we do and what we will do and what we love about them and each other and we listen and listen and we hear almost everything and we mimic and cry and dance and fornicate and multiply and blossom. We make our minds up and we lay dawn, and we spring up our sheets are draped and we make a difference and we matter most to each other and we help each other become who we are meant to be. We are fairytales and we live in cities. We drink allowance and water.

Fuckher. I peel my sweaty ass clothes right off. I danced four hours at a club place. I lost every identity I had. I heard people's clothes and saw the empties inside them. Skin seemed to disappear. Light seemed too weak to fight the dark parts of the night there. Movements erased the visuals and air was smudged. It was a nightmare painting. I hurried home where I opened my laptop and typed and four page story about a horse racing against the sunrise in a land where eyeballs were the only source of life. Tightropes were strung between the villages in the mountains. Everyone had poles. Most people were upside down and had constant diarrhea. Toes were seen as evil.

I drank four glasses of liquid and light lemonade, then I listened to the song and cried four hours when I rather would be asleep. In the morning I saw the mail come through the blind windows. I noticed I was male too.