why did i just watch dawson's creek? help.

i just want to drink. i just want to down two shots of vodka, lick the back of my hand, burn my throat & suck on a lime. is that so wrong? i just want to sit on a pier, a sidewalk, a railing with you & banter for hours on end until you get so frustrated that you just tip me backwards & kiss me. or i throw my arms around you & you nip once on my neck to tease. why don't we just do that? it's so Wrong. don't you see? it's SO wrong. but it's so grand. would you like to know what it's like, m'dear? do you really want?

i'm sleepy. come pick me up, i'll run my fingers along the back of your neck. plop me down on the couch & wrap me up in a blanket that i'll grab onto with my fists & pull to my chin. kiss the side of my mouth, linger on the top of my forehead like you don't want to separate your lips from my face. sit down in the chair next to me & rock yourself to sleep. then i'll wake up & do the same for you. except i'll hold you just a bit longer. we know you hate that in real life.. but real life doesn't count while you're in my arms.

the good side of bad.

the downside of up.

is the bad part of "i feel alone" the fact that the reason why i feel it is because i AM alone?

oh.

that's what i thought you were going to say.

i'm sitting, crouched & trembling, in the middle of this dark corner. if i could suck myself into the wall, if i could sink into the floor or float through the ceiling, i gladly would accept the challenge. if someone, anyone, reached out a hand from in the air, i would take it. all is swirling, forming great clouds & piles of dust. my sights are blind & my eyes water. tears or rain? blood or saliva? i feel naked but i'm fully clothed. i'm bathed in the light of my own indiscretions, insecurities, indifferences, intradependence. if i bang on the wall, i make a sound that echoes through the middle of my brain & shatters my material worth. worthless, already? so soon? we thought you would come back for another round or two. if i throw myself into the floor, i'll only bleed more profusely, bleed like a corpse rather than an old pro. i'm spitting & choking & shitting fluids through all open parts, biting my hand off to stop the flow. if i slam my head into the wall, i'll only spin faster, things more & more unclear. why cloud the brain when the regular senses have cut you off enough thus far? i'm pretending that you're here, that you're ready to save me (that i need saving?), staring into the darkness with hearts & eyes covered in mud & muck & hate & despair & finding myself a pathetic sight to see. even if you are there & i reach for you, all i have to look forward to is the splinters in my face & the blood in my mouth. you're not coming back, & i'm not lunging forward. here i was. thinking you were set to save me.

(you don't know, you don't know at all.)