| I got lost searching for myself; Somewhere between the wrinkled sheets full of cigarette burns with just the right amount of singe around the edges to keep them from completely unraveling. Somewhere beside the cum stains that morph like ink blots or cumulus clouds if you stare at them long enough. I got lost searching for myself inside bottles and cellophane and razors and mirrors and dim smoky rooms filled with deafening whispers and fingers that always seemed to point right at me, and in me, and through me. I got lost searching for myself, and I found you. And you found me. |