8:52 a.m. - 2009-03-11
Preminitions.
This is not about Him, or him, or *him* or anyone or you or me, or that other guy, or even the one, or the girl, or the man, or the woman, or mother or father. This is about that, feeling. That look. That, that. You know what is it, it is diffrent for everyone and for me, it is the cold. The steel. The steal. The slip. and slide. of the ice and his tongue. Across the hills. and hips. and lips and lips. It is the feeling of not rhyming. Of my hand in his in his hoodie. Preminitions. And the strings of a guitar. The dinging in my car.
The snow. That look in my eyes. Contempt. Hidden behind my glasses. Not really hidden.
Blah. I lost it.
