I'm Thinking About Whatever You're Thinking About (A Seahorse Rorschach)

No conflict, just war.

Come now, and let me look into your beautiful, deep, dark sighs ... while I meditate on my own misgivings, my own grief, my own character failings, like my stubborn self-absorption, and the way that scary drop off leading to that Carmel cove felt under my way-too-high semi-drunk heels.  Whistle it all away, baby, and soon we'll run away, in a way, from everyone and everything and stand out in the middle of the big wide open clearing, cleared up?; fucked up, geared up, reared up, chapped up, step right up, to the place where you can exhale in peace and privacy.  Mild dehydration and raw-fucked parts, we're coming for you and we're hungry, kisses!

Everyone always lets everyone down.  How do you not know this already? (you do.)  So, why do you think you're exempt? (you aren't.) We all (can and) can't do without all our every favorite crutches, sez my Tiny Tim to yours.  Keep fighting!!1!, OSP, because there is no alternative worth countenancing.  Grim grimaces go slow but yr flashing eyes' smiles burn out with a fleet-footed quickness.  Easy come, easy go.  Mixing sadness and guilt is like mixing opioids and barbiturates.  I'm no pro but I think there's gotta be a better way.  Someone who is loved in the way and to the depth that you are loved really has to remember to keep perspective, sometimes.  It is like watching a pretty girl complain about how ugly she is.  You feel bad for her but also kind of want to stab her eyes out.

Me?  All I want for is to take you in while we take in the salty breeze.  And for tight lines and harder nights.