the sex we have

it was always that way, two people laughing at the stars and waiting for something not to talk about. waiting for a chance to not tell the story. waiting for something sensual soft to hold in their minds when feeding the frenzy hand on crotch hot and desperate. it's the way we want it, need it to always be. can't there be time for heartache this way? can't there be time to die slow and waste away? or wait for fairy tales to end and think of nothing but missing the sex. we are the sex we have, they say. we are the stories we tell, they say. we are the thoughts we think, they say. if such be said and known and true and held to the core by those about, then i have some tales to tell. i have some thoughts to think. i have some sex i've had. i am a bumblebee wieghtless and casting glances at all the rest, all the ones behind us, in front of us, it's timeless and amazing this way, wanted that to be clear. so if we are what we think and say and fuck, then what am i?

2002-09-24 | 3:56 p.m.
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