6 hours ago
I had just finished watching what I think was four or five episodes of Narco's first season. I had never heard of the show before. We were an hour north of the border and there could not have been any better a time to be introduced to it than then. I was laying on the bedroom floor, headphones tucked into my ears. Glass Animals. Hazey.
I wanted to dance.
Listen to it once and you'll know what I mean.
I felt the hairs of the carpet brush against the tips of my fingers and the points of my toes - the softness and the warmth of the idea as a whole; yet harsh, coarse, almost ill-tempered when you move against it too quickly or without intent direction.
The music suddenly sounded louder the further I fell into a daze of a half tired sleepiness and a half resentful daydream.
don't you cry.
big, blue eyes.
Back. Come back.
Blue. They were very much blue.
But they never cried for me.
The floor felt soft again the less I thought about us and the more I hated you. I turned the music down so low, I could barely hear words to allegorize the images of you I had tucked away in the deepest parts of my cranium.
It's past one o clock. The breeze from an open window has always felt good. But it was more especially comforting because I am here. Dozing off into a purple light. I am here and I will one day soon have forgotten about you. It's 2015. You're nowhere and I am here. San Diego.
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