“i don’t suppose you have change for a dollar?”

FUCK. how do i get home now? taxi rides across the city, playing ring ‘round the rosie with our fingertips locked. some new lover’s vice. i’m jealous, so i hide it in jokes about mostly nothing, mostly scenery, or some fucked up person in the street…

the taste in my mouth is that of copper like when you thrust your metal blue eyes into mine. connecting in spires and moving in webs still glistening with dew from some strange yet unseen jungle which floated on high over currents or jet streams, the taste in my mouth is that of copper like the smell of rain soaked streets in paris that we walk along arm in arm until the end.

“do you want the truth?”

“i can’t believe in you.”

romancerromancerromancerromancerromancerromancerromancerromancerromancerromancer

your feelings are haunted like the dark corners of my mind. your feelings are haunted like the long hallways of my heart.

your feelings…