time

my body moved into position, bent up in a car, flesh times two in the drivers seat in the dark. push the lips, push the skin, kiss kiss, slip slip. what is ist about the breathing, and the moans, and the heartbeats, and the weight? fingertips pressing on soft tissue, pushing, pulling, holding. sliding. its fake loving. and im still empty, even though he filled me.       .     .       .           im . . . just empty.

when is it going to MEAN something?

when am I going to mean something?

(i took this in the lincoln tunnel, it says a lot about the current state of things i think)

I Dream that I see, don’t kill it, it’s free
You’re just a man, you get what you can

We all do what we can
So we can do just one more thing
We won’t have a thing
So we’ve got nothing to lose
We can all be free
Maybe not with words
Maybe not with a look
But with your mind

love.love