even though we’re hung over and have to work in an hour or by describing to you what you can be someday you conceal everything until

on some level we still prefer our invisible devils and their personal malevolence never born again in the same shadow absent from photograph.  I love you which does not mean I know you.  Nameless desires singed the lining of our hearts the deformed body we carried.  I need to know if you are anything more than the remaining pages of popular fiction.  You are no simpler than primitive touch the sudden total withdrawal pointing at a closed door in a dark hallway.  These evil emotions seem to enter us unseen naked exhausted worried.  Try to hold onto something to link long afternoons walking on mirrors and there is no word more beautiful.  You should really put some ice on that.