Dark Moves Of Love.

listening to: science fiction, double feature - rocky horror picture show OST.
reading: john - cynthia lennon.
watching: nothing.
eating: air.
drinking: peach juice.

so i sit here in the middle of my room, eyes closed, my whole world spinning, waiting for you to come and lie next to me. but that isn't going to happen. not for a long while.
i can feel fireworks exploding behind my retinas, my toes fuzzing and disintergrating, their granules falling to the floor, i can feel my lips slowly moving further and further apart until they're completely detached from my face.

i miss your gentle laugh, your warm lap, your eyes when they race around the room with obvious uncertainty. i miss getting up at ten o'clock, finding out you've already been awake for three hours, and have been eating and watching me in my slumber for most of that time. i miss the way your hair meshes with your eyelashes, i miss your smile, i miss the way you warm my soul.

i could never thank her enough. sometimes i hate her so much because she talks about how much better than me she is, and i know it's true. but sometimes, just sometimes, i want to be that beautiful skinny girl who has everything going for her. the girl that's good at everything, the girl who doesn't always speak her mind, the girl who knows when to say when. but that isn't me. and i can only dream of such a girl.

i fall back into my reality, which isn't realistic at all. my door inhales and exhales like a living creature, and the floor compresses and releases in different sections to create something similar to an optical illusion. i breathe in and the drum solo that leads into the chorus fills my sensories, until i'm a mere blur.
i can hear the screeches of the guitar in the back ground, and the demonic voice that yells "one of these days i'm going to chop you up into little pieces" and i reply with, "you already have".

and suddenly everything makes sense. it all clicks together. and i realise something that was fairly obvious before. i am home. when i hear my music, everything is laced together in a necklace of raw experience, and i feel myself give way to the pure genius.

this is reality. like grandad always said: "....i'm there."