Rains again..
And an accompanying chill.
Winters are creeping closer by the day and soon you'll have me cribbing here all about winters.
Ah, what I wouldn't do to hear a honeyed murmur uttering a little verse, coppery blaze of silent voice voicing a faint curse.. of soothing inflections that sound like the soft crunch of snow on a cold day.
The faintest mutter seeping through skin and housing in my veins: its diabolical ability to ensnare me in a demonic rapture of love and obsession, maniac devotion. How is this possible?
Days like these you let a void follow you to stare into the face. I want to reach out and touch its soft center for I know it's a system of sonorous strings, and each taut thread of sharp wire might cut me in pieces but I know it'll sing.
Darling won't you tell me some nice things?
I miss some nights, I miss those days
no matter how small or filled with few hours, when my fingers could do the talking and watch little words flash across the screen. When thoughts were flung into a to and fro chain of virtual tube. It happened in different time zones yet but at the same time. I knew.
Now it's flinging words alright rather graffitiing a blank wall. A visit followed by another, sometimes at parallel times, while standing on opposite ends of the same wall.
Conversations in digital blanks left decorated on a sacred wall. It's a shrine to me. A monastery most revered, one that I visit more oft than I'd like to confess. In truth I let my eyes live there, to catch any slightest movement, for I shan't miss not a singular comma or exclamations Typos are miniature gods of mischief. A wall, my wall, our wall of shame and sanctity. Of desecration and deliberation.
Did I tell you.. of course I did.. but you do know.. don't you.
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