Him

Him
22/02/03

I don't know what it is about life that makes me shudder. Sometimes it
could be the non-exsistance of love but then it comes back. I don't
know about tomorrow. I don't know why he left and didn't come back,
shielding love like a disaster that hadn't happened but now has. The
fresh looks we had when we met- grey and disfigured and molded and
molded by putty into my sadness. This smell reminds me of that spare
room in an old friend's house- funny how we rememver such trivial
things and yet he won't remember me. Wierd when your dreams turn to
disaster too, when the amber turns green and the cold fire has icicles
and size of his foot which twirled around mine once under that table in
Manchester. I don't talk about him anymore, but I write about him like
a pen wondering on fresh lines and think about once an hour to check my
heart is till beating.
I could go on forever, insanity.