love like

being perfect. living, loving. bathing, killing thinking linking licking love like.

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stone slab cold stone underfoot darkwood and a streaming body, of water. holes drinking and mayflies and nymphs sucked in and spewed out of caves formed by the running of this stream. tired, wanting to sleep, wanting to drink but i dont want the animals living inside my stomach, living there, warm. dont want them living there. not their place there.

creating these cracks, fractures, fissures and fishes too in the water sharing their home with the mayflies and nymphs and all the other things. not sharing just wanting to have this same place. not even a want. they dont have any kind of want. 

all this water is just smoothing away at these rocks, and i look into it, its light, the sun is right above me, really throwing down heat onto me and making me tired. i just want to stay here.

i said it was cold. i said i was at a river too. i say a lot of things. forget it, im just trying to make something, trying to be productive but this fucking full stop keeps fucking getting stuck. and this paper is too thick and the typewriter doesn’t want to feed it through. just moving it by myself and its making these ugly spaces on the page, really ugly spaces. and the bell just stopped working too. im fucking trying arent i?

so i found the time to write this. its the end of the day and my hands are tired, cold, bloody. really cold yknow? stained like a chopping board. not nice to look at. but i need to look at the keyboard. really not used to writing on here but i thought it might take my mind off the day. just the longest day. so boring, banal, nothing youd wanna read about. just so boring, cyclical, not even worth the effort of my cold fingers getting achey on this old thing. found it upstairs. probably his room. he didn’t tell me. have no way of finding out now i guess.

ugh, keyboard is so loud. as soon as you press the wrong buttons youve got this shitty ugly reminder that youre shaking with adrenaline from what youve done. it wasnt my fault anyway. think i should wash my hand but i dunno where the bathroom is. not even sure where this is in town. we drove for a while to get here.

pulled up to me and said “you alright mate? you lost?” and his eyes just looked so dark, not nice to look at. not dark like that. dark like he wanted something, and dark like his brain didn’t want him to see shit anymore. covered them up. just black circles in the centre of his eyes now.

he wanted to know if i was alright. he wanted to know if i was lost. looked at him. dint look at his eyes cos i dint like em. looked at his car really. proper nice. expensive probably. and he said to me “get in if you want?” so i walked up to the passenger door, opened it, got in, sat down next to him like. i wasn’t planning on going anywhere in particular and he was a nice guy yknow, nice warm eyes looked at me and said “do you wanna go for a drive?” and i said “well i got in your car dint i?” and he laughed. thought i were funny.

his house is nice. bit weird though. much smaller than mine. nothing special.
one bedroom
one living room 
one kitchen
one bathroom
i think. not like my place.

washed my hands off now, much better. makes me less nervous, dont feel like anythings happened. im not trying to avoid the subject im just wanting to write cos i havent in a while. used to like writing a lot. just writing about nature. like to think about what itd be like with no civilisation, just me and a stream and some animals, living.

not really sure what to write when its not that. ive probably got a lot of time in this house now. might just stay here for a while. might write a story, or a book.

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