8spiders

It's cold and the sun keeps rolling in and out of consciousness. I guess it's one of those mornings.

I feel there's a whole part of me that is going woefully unnurtured. My friend Tom, now in Portland, is the only person that I connect with on this one level. People have remarked at how similar we can be and how sometimes we enthrall them with our conversations - as if our ideas are hypnotic.

Sometimes I fear, in his absence, we may have drifted off to different places. But I'm unsure.

It's that were so full of the same ideas and that we've had similar spins on the same things... cradled the same tiny dreams. We can communicate with hardly any effort and our words merge into a primordial ooze - reeking of biology, spawning bizarre thoughtforms that exist at a hyper-accelerated rate, living and dying in their own microcosim.

I wonder if this is what people look for when they want to fall in love, maybe not realizing that you can get different sustenance from different sources.

Maybe that's what I need though, to fall in love.

Woo me, caress me with the soft flesh of your brain. I want to feel the tingling of your electrical impulses as they grease through me, seducing my body... chasing it into a warped place of dreaming.