i guess the story for today could go like this:
"what's wrong dominic? you look like you're a fool again, you skipped out again... What's wrong dominic, with that look upon your face and that smile behind your eyes: tell me what you're thinking because it can't be what you're saying"
'i found another excuse for today. i told myself things to give me the strength to jump over the mountains i'd hidden behind... but, at the end of the day, they were back in place ov my own arrangements; new excuses for mountain passes: i'm the only one allowed back here... especially at times like these'
"but What, dominic... What the hell does that mean?"
'mmmmm, ok. i copped out.
i'm a bit of a cop you... you know? like, i take what i can find and then throw it away before i get much time to get it ingrained into myself... i'm not losing anything... i just stay safely alone. errrr, like that. exactly like that.'
"is that safe? i mean... soon enough, you're gonna need SOMEONE on your side... are you sure it's a good idea to throw it all away like that?"
'well, i...
"wait, you don't know what you think about that, do you?
ok, look: you've really got to get over this judgemental bullshit.
you collect, you reject.. and you can't remember and scatter your reminders: you're not playing the game. Shape up, sport. it's time to get on the field. time to finish some laps... it's not a very equal wager for someone to enter into if you just tell them you've got breathing problems and 'need to rest a moment' so you can watch them in all ov their OWN humanity.. all of their own fears alone on the field... tell me what that gets you."
'when i kiss people i can make them want my lips'
"fuck you: that's not kissing"
'fair enough...
ok, i remember people the way i liked and hated them.. i remember everything'
"Oh? just like that, eh? you remember everything?
now, I won't take from you the thought that you really do have quite a good memory when it comes to situations... but you've got to keep in mind that you made up half of what was going on...
you were there, yeah, but you weren't the only one and that's something you leave out of the score: listen, god, you're not in everyone's head like you're in yours... you don't know what's going on to the n-th degree. nice Dream, but..."
'come on... i'm fucking Trying...'
"cop out.
Trying WHAT"
'i'm trying to try. i'm trying to gather up all that is there.. trying to hold some things in my hands... not like one would a grasshopper, but a butterfly: they are free to get away when they want.. not trapped to spit at you eternally... but there by their own will...
ahhhh, i don't really know where to go, you see: i may have jumped the trains of a million past lives.. but i've still only been doing it a few years;
i can see a million things, can taste and hear and smell now... even sometimes feel, but the interaction thing in total ernest seems to be eluding me as far as anything functional goes'
"well, you may have it all wrong there..."
'Wrong? do you really think i'm wrong or just not there yet?'
"dominic... dear boy... You're THERE... you're just scared about it. when you gonna make up your mind? when you going to stop making excuses...? What do you have to protect other than your insecurities?"
'HA! i've got a million: i've got my past and my friends and my books and my mind {i made a million things, i invented a categorical system for trust, and reasons for holding hands in the subways... i deciphered colours and the phonemes of all the words to understand where the motivation of the sound comes from} i've got little bits of HOPE [and lack there-ovs] and i've got ideas and stories and
desperation... covered over with long coats and warm blankettes... pairs of gloves and lost scarves...'
"yeah?"
'yeah...'
"tell me about it"
'. . . w e l l , w h a t d o y o u w a n t t o h e a r ? . . ."
"what you want to say."
'actually... i reall need some help here...'
"yeah?"
'yeah

but there is a feeling... there is a feeling that...
you know, when i am with another person i know how important they are... Like you, listening to me now, slight phrases of actual concren [this mightn't stem from the fact that you am i, but...] like a hand on my shoulder or what not
thought:>>" to touch is to heal "<< because i know when i'm not so feeling quite alone... but my hand doesn't give like that, does it?
when i feel like i can give i am i god.. but when i can't i am dead... this nasty bi-polar shift ripping me off base all the time... great for the experience, i suppose... but this boat is wearing out.
i'm just trying to let you know how important i think it is that i could be with you... to think that you actually want me to be here [i've always had a doubt in the back of my head: guess what guess why i can never trust you like me like me whom i never trust but would always like to]... along the lines of my hands; your hips. i get the feeling rushing up in my chest where i'd like to stand up and exclaim with my entire body how good this could feel [though you're not here, i remember].
and that's about as close as i ever get to thinking about 'good' because i'm a logic-monster and really need more than that and the feeling is only important to me when it moves me...
and that moves me..
and, more importantly, brings into my awareness how i want to move... and i could dance for hours i suppose
or so i say, at least... What else?' eh? Oh... nothing... Ok. go back then: it's over