16/04/08
For some reason I always get a boner when I travel.
I feel gelatinous. Lacking form. Malformed? No, just potential.
You're there on the wing, through the snot-steam in the window, pristine. Hours pass and I glare at you as I never should. I'm there too so it's OK maybe. A shower of sparks and the world below. I'm really just passing the time. So yeah, you're there on the wing--no, sorry, on the engine, and I'm fucking you in every way imaginable or at least all the literal ones. At least. Five-hundred miles an hour our flesh starts to sear in that way that vinegar can cook things. Not-really. My breathing becomes so laboured (it's the wind) that I become an imposing restriction. I imagine you liking it. You want me not to be able to choose. It's too much air and you will select for me. So I hurt you with sex which is an act of love or at least I mean it that way. Nullifying hatred. Or something.
Out there now we're dead, but I imagine it to have been worthwhile.
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I feel gelatinous. Lacking form. Malformed? No, just potential.
You're there on the wing, through the snot-steam in the window, pristine. Hours pass and I glare at you as I never should. I'm there too so it's OK maybe. A shower of sparks and the world below. I'm really just passing the time. So yeah, you're there on the wing--no, sorry, on the engine, and I'm fucking you in every way imaginable or at least all the literal ones. At least. Five-hundred miles an hour our flesh starts to sear in that way that vinegar can cook things. Not-really. My breathing becomes so laboured (it's the wind) that I become an imposing restriction. I imagine you liking it. You want me not to be able to choose. It's too much air and you will select for me. So I hurt you with sex which is an act of love or at least I mean it that way. Nullifying hatred. Or something.
Out there now we're dead, but I imagine it to have been worthwhile.
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