Love them, hate them, fuck them. Usually in that order.


I can't stop staring at those eyes in the scarlet light, radiating across this diner. Vulnerability and pain, inviting me to reach across this smallest of spaces between us. This gap growing ever closer with meandering talk of what this life means, of biblical tales and being abandoned by god, of existence preceding essence, what it takes to be happy; consumerism or nirvana. Down these roads we walk, until our lips meet in the shadow of my building.

And gosh, that feeling: that sacred emotional chemistry drowned out by a devouring physical need. The search for solace ends with my hands around him, with the taste of him on my lips.