another lost angel

jesus

why do things become so fucking complicated in such short periods of time? why do i feel the need to drive in circles, sit in parking lots alone, explore neutral subdivisions (the homeowners see me as a spy from an enemy community), and fucking waste time before i find the damn gumption to go already? dammit. and it was good. what with the humping of the televisions and the smoking of the cigarettes and the drinking of the liquid and the falling down the stairs and the making out of strangers. i review from the middle, critic in the midst of the jungle, paramed, first on the scene, telepathic in questioning, negotiations of space and place, winner. nice guy.

i want to know why (i care!) after prolonged absence, reappearances scare me. i want you so badly but cant find the words. and now of all times! miss all-time record. mr mojo risin mojorisin gota mojo risin dida mojorisin gotakeep on risin risinr isin risinrisnrisinrisinrisinrins ridin ridnin babe

and now? why??? motherfuckit why? and spitting blood to the north. spitting blood in the wind? leave again, leaver. motherfucking leaver! soloooooo is me. han solo, alone, traveler in space. lonelily. lost and found simultaneously, returning home to catch the leaving ship. a rerun, repeat of the last. north, the both of you, though relative. explain to me your feelings, your negotiations, the silence, the dead-fucking-radio. dead-line, hanigning on that dead-line, dead radio signal loss between you. is it that bad? explain to meee. how can it be dead? not for you, for yall, for me it depends on both. are you lucky ladies? sex in the city? this shouldnt be so damn complicated, so damn,,, understandable impossible. why must you torture me with your nottalk and your silent speak, the back of your head, the back. glances from your car, from afar. to the east. sunday afternoons alone, not since the summer. since july, july a year. summer a year and that. and then i didnt appreciate the neither of you. can you tell me why? can you give me a sign of a life or a ticket stub already torn and put me on a plane or a car to a coffee shop here or there or both, somewhere in between where we can share some lovely te3a or cofee or mocha or lattee and just appreciate, fucking appreciate the fact that i made it and you made it and make it and that the future includes the both of us though not necessarily legal or both in the same... but seperate and longing and far. slow it down.... to slow, always has been and will be. at least no pause, no longing stopping, no cause for harsh reaction, no lies, no love at allll nowhere in the world is there another best friend secret like this one. you dont understand. i dont understand, aint nobudy understands the pain and empytyness and lack of utter understanding or anything of this nature that lives in my heart, no fuzzy animals or zen creatures or dreaming ecxcept of other people uninvolved and involved in their own selves nad lives and others due to that exactly. rising rigin. mokkjo. got it now.