I could imagine listening to you singing through the roof of my CRV on an unusual ride through Tyr's erratic tides - my tyres panicking - your voice rolling down the windows, the landscape view crumbling to cotton-candy in flash colours that can't include pink
and the song goes on and on cos I love listening to you - I'd love to look at you - make you interrupt my mornings - take all my wasted time - dictate my urgency - make yours all of me
Make me all yours then watch me break it out to you / I've never been in love before / you've seen it all - but you've never seen this before / I've tried times and miles but I've never been in love before
I have fantasies where I drowned in you / drinking every time you were thirsty / waking up when you got up to pee / sleeping every time you went to bed / took every breath you pulled in - disintegrating with every exhale getting longer - dazing out when you die from laughter - dying at your sighs / even if it's a lie
I love looking at you - even if it's a lie - I love looking at you / I love falling in love with you - (vodka signs goes insane - you start to get nervous - the network shaking beneath the surface) - I love falling in love in general
He said, "the kick only lasts three minutes" (if you've got the same ticket) - still can't take the minute to think I won't die if I stop this - disintegrating with endless possibilities of nuclear reactions/biochemical misinterpretations/filthy fractions/vicious mutations/the hemispherical shift/seismic asperities
"Everyone looks like you but you barely look the same!"
Raging like a full-blown foot-ball thrust out a nuclear launcher into different world pieces - kicking in and out of tents/playgrounds/continents/lines/recently beds - changing colours - killing dreams - shuffling between lavender fields and no affection
Now if vodka signs blurs out the panic on your brain but keeps lines attended with all my names, does it make you sure you're not insane? - (bulling round the girl club with volcanic acrimony, bashing your glasses, shattering your plant pots, blaring the songs you made me, choking the cats with unmade matcha tea, fantasising about you fantasising about me) - that's how I dream with lavender and no affection - that's how I dream with palavers and no conviction - that's how I dream
"Over there, that's a kind of counter-culture establishment - they hate me, I hate them. This is the type of leftists that I hate. Radical leftists whose fathers are all very rich."
[abrupt shift into reality - we hear sea waves crashing vaguely before the screen retains focus at Andrea who sips fervently on her second iced hazelnut latte, eyes fixated on a pair of people getting in their car at a fair distance]
[Hugh sits in parallel to Andrea and frowns]
'Just another nonsense couple from the light ages in a two-door, four-wheels BMW by the sea licking street-ice cream deciding they should call the baby after her mum if it's a girl.'
'I got posh cigarettes if it's any comfort.'
[Andrea's eyes soften as she reaches for the ridiculously expensive pack of Parliament cigarettes - Hugh passes the lighter across the table while sliding Andrea's journal towards him, acknowledging the occupants across the paper he left blank only minutes ago]
'Notes on maintenance,' Hugh reads with serious conviction and a to-die for softness in his eyes. 'Relationships, intimacy, cocaine, acid, iced hazelnut lattes, poetry - entertaining the dramatic silence sleeping in my bed and driving my car and playing my vinyl records, the filthy anti-hero of amniotic tranquility.'
[Andrea clearing the eye-water accumulating at the corners of her eyes with frustration]
'You could fucking read in your head, you know? - the silence is, in fact, pretty fucking bothered.'
