Love is a funny thing… you reach out and try to pluck it from the sky… it is all around after all. But, like the sky, it disappears before you can pull it to your mouth, suck it in and allow it to breed inside of you like a parasite. It’s pointless. Bah, who needs it? Who wants it? I do. You can’t step on love. Like a nail tacked into your floorboard, the locked-jawness of love freeing your soul to sing, but the words won’t come out. Trying desperately to open your mouth to free these insolent words… disobedient words… lying words that you have stored up for the winter… for yourself. And pretend is all you have. False emotions for a false sense of security. An emotion that you are not alone, you are something, you are important to someone other than yourself. That you are needed. That you are not just another face. You are not just another body to lie next to. That you are. That you are someone’s lover. That you are loved. That you love. And no one, no one can take that away until your lie is exposed. You try to hide your face because it gives you away. You try to hide you crying soul that wants nothing more than an end to suffering for that something that can make it feel better. You have become soul sick and wrapped up in your ways. Stupid boy. Falling in carefully laid traps… plans to overtake your will and consume your being.
