Take Me With You

Subterranean by design. I wonder what I would find. On the inside, I tremble electric when I look at his jaw. I guess we all find inspiration in different things which is good, I guess, or irrelevant, moreover, like fatalism. My eyes are going fast, faster and I wonder if you'll describe the world to me when they're gone. Something corrupted my brain a long time ago and when he says things like, "I wouldn't marry me," what I hear is, "You know I can't marry you." I just want him to love me the way I love him. So? I am conventional, but not so. I just want my unloved parts to get loved. I want niceness five days a week (four minimum) and I want to be put abed every night (seven minimum, no maximum) by that most salacious soporific. That and the two non-negotiables of fidelity and respect. He's like a shark because I have blood in my mouth and he smells it from ten feet away, acknowledging me with a knowing smirk and questioning eyes and maybe if I lure him close enough I can tag him and steal his DNA. Really, though, I just wish I could cap the old times and lines and be naive all over again, but he cruises for camp and I self-reference for satisfaction, and I'll never see that place again and we'll start talking about that or this and I'll start to lose my confidence. His x-ray vision makes me feel nervous and I read about this kind of thing in a sci-fi psychobiology book that I never finished and I don't actually think I'm worthless, I'm just scared that I might be.

"Circumlocution and ambiguity are not synonymous." - Anonymous