luminara

the clasp of someone's hand a vice, a grip like a clamp, a resentful leader taking me away from me. The feeling building in me that resembles hate, but couldn’t possibly be related. My hair in my face is suddenly like ten thousand moths swarming and you’re on all sides of me like walls. My words meld into yours like a face tranformed by acid, leaving them unrecognizable and putrid. Silence hangs like a suicide, swaying, thick rope creaking. I selfishly want to go off on my own, liberate myself and I know that you want the same. I don’t understand it and admire and detest love for being so strong.

i’m held down like a sea-creature under water who looks up and sees the sky distorted, wonders what the breeze feels like that moves him so deeply. Each of my thoughts outlines the truth in silhouette; a vague shadow I can never quite make out. What expression does it wear?

i don't have any wine tonight and its bugging me.