Tuesday, November 22, 2011

The Sexual Grip of a Paperback

The trouble with this company is not the fact of our clothes. Nor is it the fact that none of us have anything beautiful to say. We are all sort of beautiful. I think they are anyways. Different kind of beauty but the weather is working in their favor because the mundane against the mundane often is left mundane and the mundane across their backgrounds seems, flavorful. The music is doing no justice and were barely looking at each other, its rather amusing but no ones laughing so why start now. The dodging and dashing of sentences and dotting imaginary "I"s in my mind to complete things I'll never say. Amusing, right? The way you can grip a paper back is so much more sexual that the grip on a hard cover, its coarse and distilled but the paper back grip on the house of something your in love with. I'm in love with the words on the pages and the pen the words came out of and the fingers that held that pen to the heart that pumped the blood into the hand, the pen, the paper, and the person... The soul behind the paper back that I've fallen in love with. You are my most cherished read paper back and I love you. The weather to say wouldn't begin to express love to most but you understand, and this company might not get it and neither do you, my paper back lover, but you feel it, the weather. The sudden billowing of something else settling in this stand off perspective I carry around with me and I am ready to actually get involved with some form of action, violence maybe? Maybe I am prepared to throw books, and throw away my dignity. Did that make you nervous? Because you aren't worth my dignity and I am drowning in this high ball glass of Johnnie, he's suppose to make you walk but I'm swimming in my head and I cannot find my feet and I'm not walking Johnnie, another swing only cuts my feet right off and should somebody hurry and cut me off, nobodys listening to me, paper back? Paper back, I cannot remember where I was with that because Johnnie has gotten a good hold on me and the weather is the same and this company is mundane and I'm lost in a crowd of people I know but they do not know me. Movie threater darkness and I'm hoping for a sequeal. Your white balance bracelet has got me unbalanced from the row behind you, and I hope my eyes are crowding you because I can't stop staring at you. Threatical weather on a work day night and the casual lust at first sight I'm having with you physically. Get to know me personally? Stay cool, I tell myself, but I am so into you. And its foolish to say because this has happened merely with the touch of my pupils to your persona. Fantastic affairs on a work day night. Then you step outside and the rain has you feeling and thinking and mending something entirely different, before you even considered the rain a possibility of change.

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