stutter mutter

she sits up and reads...straightening her back every so often conscious of her curving spine bad for her. soaking in the words spilt by someone she almost knew.... she rushes through paragraphs grabbing meaningslinescoloursfeelings along the way. pixie-like in the big chair engulfing her. a fish swims past swish swish. she lissens to the rhythms.notes rising and falling....picks at the thick baseline and softly sways to it inside her head (because anything else would be unprofessional). she imagines swinging her hips tapping her feet dipping her waist and sits with a halfsmile on the inside. i spy on her from the corner of my left eye. watch the slightest of her movements and feel her swirling thoughts manifest themselves in misty eyes...bluegray... i couldnt have been further from her and yet somehow it fell within the realm of all that i could ever have claimed as my own.

=================

that songs starts up again ... listen to the words flying from one end to the next ... directed towards you or was it me? .... i cant remember. . no. thats a lie. i do remember. i remember it better then most .. maybe because of the shiny newness of the memory. forever distracted by the shiny and new. what more is there. ..
- interrupted -
for what. something small ...i am disturbed by the smallness of it all... distressed at the invisibility (due to mist, fog and other factors) of the potential smallness of that something big i see myself chasing. circle the point till it gets smaller and smaller still. but if that bothers me why let it breathe. smother it before it suffocates me. but i wont. simply because i dont know any better. if i did .. well things would be a little different wouldnt they.
-coming back to that-
the guilt still sits there .... a thick layer. fat. smoggy ..clouding over any peace ...pieces of something that could be/should be innocent. simple. just that what they are. as far as they can be. And i dont know how to ask. ( is it over? ) if it were i would sigh content and smile. i pray for it three times a day when i can. when there arnt other louder things screaming to be heard. no relief from the screams muffled though they may be at insignificant times of the day or night.
-washed up i am-
and i think its piling up. ...not that i can feel it. (not that i ever do before the fact) not untill it reaches the roof and starts pouring out through the windows onto the streets. on to you. im sorry i do that. i shouldnt its not fair. but then thats what i have you around for isnt it *smirk*. couldnt be further from what you keep me around for isnt it. what a nice mess of clashing expectations the two of us make. where will it take us. or the hackneyed expression of all time "what will become of us".. (tera kiya ho ga kaalia :P). more then a day and a half and you start aching as do i..... those 7 minutes of that voice across those oceans is what we're surviving on and what we need. to let you sleep and let me get up and start my day (or the other way round if time allows it). i hope it gets us through what we have to .....in order for you to become you and for me to come into myself.. ... yes im still going to collect those drops of jupiter .. (even though i know that heaven is overrated) .... hmmmmmmm