Trafficking In Loneliness

But drownings always leave me trafficking in loneliness, I was not a perfect human, I was not beautiful, the earth did not separate with awe under my feet; cross the night with passions that was my perfume, I went from smelling the slime of lovers dust to crawling surfaces for a lover. Lovers to cover the loneliness, but lovers always make poor companions and they leave us as soon as they smell another's passion. Those that stay and comfort us, never quite fill the void. We knew, I knew that at this junction the void was larger than ever, every time a lover leaves, the heart gets bigger with emptiness, it takes a bigger lover to replenish the heart, and even in the absence of lovers the heart gets more rapacious with emptiness, and the bigger emptiness of the whole makes it less possible to find a fulfilling lover.

Love is perfect miss communication, two lovers really believe each other, and trust one another, this, perfection and beauty tell us can not be! Beauty is so perfect it possesses perfect communication, it does not need to communicate, which we, the flawed lovers perceive as harsh indifference. That which communicates well, does not communicate.

A particle of perfection can be in two points of space at the same time and seem to be traveling in-between. Death needs a friend. God damn it! I’ve told you death needs a friend pick up the phone and call him, now!