the phone, .
please bring vodka home
war
flop
ing
what the fuck - are u drunk already?!
no, just in the shoulder of the cap. and people, they are letters, extending into picture stretched hands
every lamp post a soft swallow
i'll pick you up some chocolate.
/click\
minutes later * home
face & stranger in the chair. time locked.
lagged sun spasm.
my only eye clamp: narrow hips. tiny tree feet wrapped in tiny crashes.
he kisses the long december of her back, her mixed-up, hyper hair, half light , half black.
the ice turns to fog turns to trembling:
did you mean to say, humping?
no. not at all.. closed eyes heavy with THAT
look . touches propped prop.
edit
this show/hide version of somehow-shadows, ceiling shots
get back to the stretched hands
i kiss yours
try to focus, ok? shows teeth.. moves
heart to new heat. .
later he puts a tiny gold sticker of a lost shell on her slender shoulder
there are some missing parts to the story like the still point
when there was only silence
how when she forgot him her lines started to disappear
drawing by MethMaker
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