My Lover Moved Farther Away
Then Outer Space and All I Got
Was This Lousy Crawfish.
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.
I know I love someone when I’m helpless. When I’m lying along at night and can’t sleep because I remember their voice too clearly. Anger drains to missing them, being lonely without them. I hold onto my hands, I curl my blankets around me, and I can’t continue anything but madness. My in-box is the last vestige of contact and as yet, it’s been empty.
Sunday is entirely fancy dress. I have a birthday game of croquet to attend, then High Tea. I need to have my gown cleaned today, it’s next on the agenda next to buying more toothpaste, the odd with the prosaic. Also on the list, change for the bus and monies for SinCity cover. I haven’t begun on my Eris costume, but I’m not terribly concerned. I’ve enough safety pins to guarantee that I could make clothing out of cut up newspapers if I need to.
People have been calling late at night again. I like that, I appreciate that people are willing to take me at face value when I say “call any time, any hour”, but of late, it’s like every time I pick up the phone after midnight, it’s somebody crying. It’s a strange summer theme I don’t understand. I’m not an angel, I don’t grant absolution, but it’s becoming almost a side-line job again. I thought I ditched this years ago, it meant so much to them and so little to me.