There is a quite desperation to each of our conversations, the universe is spiraling down into some sort of broken kaleidoscope. I don't know about you but it's hot in here. She say's with a coy smile, I hear her voice but I don't watch her lips move so I'm not sure it's coming from her. I can feel my finger run through her hair, but I don't even know if it's her hair or even if it''s on her head. I can't be the only one hot in here. We lie on the bed together. It's not natural but we do it anyway. If there is a God and he is listening, please let this moment last forever. The sun is about to come up over the windowsill, and this moment will be lost to time. There isn't much past this moment that I would care to remember, t here isn't much past this point that I would care to experience. Essentially there is just us, but who are we? Two lonely, helpless teenagers lost, adrift in time, trying to piece ourselves together by piecing our selves together. We could be two strong women or two strong men, we could be two snow people built by children awaiting our fate with each dreadful sunrise. It's not like we're fucking we're just laying here touching each other and dreading the light. Like I said there's a quite desperation to our conversations.
She said you always speak through music-I said yeah-and I always do!----------------Now playing: Neutral Milk Hotel - Ghostvia FoxyTunes
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