There was a sadness in me. I bailed on my friends, was relieved to. I wasn't really there anyway, my heart'd not been for their foisted plan from the get-go, I was happy to be excused. couldn't even choked down the cloyingsweet cider that I hadn't asked for. Was relieved when ya got there.Twoish beers after and I was more than happy for us to walk back to mine, arms around each other, not just cos'a me bein' dizzi from my dropped-down-dose. Smilin' to myself as you joked with the bottlshop lady. Pulled you by the coatsleeve down that alley I like, a nicer way home, 'guess you liked that narrow space as much as me; barely room for single-file walking, you squashed up against me, real romantic like. We stayed there for a bit, kissin' like that, taking turns mashing each other into the bricks, discussing the finer points of the space. You asked if I was gonna go you there. But the alley gets some traffic and for all my bravado I'm too shy. So I tug you along and out of there over the cobblestoned bit behind it, slowing up as I hear some sorta chamber music kinda thing, and so, not wanting to have lost too much ground to admitting I would'na fucked you back there, I turn about and pull you into a sorta waltz or somesuch(I don't know how to dance), but I turn you about a few seconds 'fore we walk on passed a car, engine running. Guy leans out
"My girlfriend always says she wishes I would dance in the street
an' she saw that
and she's annoyed at me"
I giggle an apology and hope he's joking, I'da felt bad getting him in trouble jus' by bein' a fanciful tool. Further down a pure-white-as cat leaps a fence and bounds towards us from across the road. THIS SHIT NEVER HAPPENS, cat's aren't dogs, this thing straight up and purring wants us to pat it everywhere, rolling around on it's back all playful, no teeth or claws in it's game tho, superfriendly, tinkling the bell on it's collar. what's up, you strange (biggish)little thing? It's collar comes off and I get you to pat it's head so's it'll be still enough and I buckle it back up. Surreal shit; Some kinda prank/scam/magic, what is this? It let's me pick it up and you get me to put it in your big-sack-bag and it just sits in the top of that still purring.
Another cat, shadowy, harder to make out, meyowls from under a nearby car, ah...ahah...so that's the game...you humm that cure song about that, I click along and we leave them cats to work that stuff out, me looking back at that big, friendly, little, white thing sitting static under the street-light. You point out having probably magicked that thing out of the ether with your talk of finding boxes of kittens, so we talk about finding wads of cash and caches of cocaine...then we eye-off the shadows we pass hopefully, but turn up nothing. My friends drive past us, dropping josh home, reverse in order to heckle jovially. Not realising who or what's going on you growl at them, not realising you're not realising, I laugh, I laugh harder when I realise you don't realise...when you realise. They pull out of my place, just as we are closing in.
"HOW MUCH?" steph calls out
"FOR YOU BABY, FUCK ALL" you yell
"Creeps" I call back as they drive away waving
We get all cosy in my room 'til you're forced to tell me at some discomfort, that you're getting claustrophobic and I feel like a creep for making you put upon. But then we giggle a bit and I pass out, twitching and sweating from my dropped-down-dose, my feet tangled up in yours, perpendicular, while you watch some funny guy being smart off of my little computer.

being in love makes a retard of me,
almost as bad as being high, likely as boring,
certainly as vague and unproductive
like life-takes-a-holiday styles
an' all I wanna do is lay around like some fat, roman grape-eatin' cunt
an' all I wanna do is get my dick sucked and my hair touched
gotta figure a way not to binge on this
but if I'd figured a way not to binge by now my life an' my health'd be a very different state of affairs.
gotta pull my socks up, well on...n'then up
then chin up, nose up, face up, let's go
get all that shit done
earn that other bit,
dinner then dessert, then bedbedbed.

He's better than if I coulda imagined him
he's all sly smiles and "hey big eyes
how's it going with your big eyes...
andya coconut face
buttermilk skin" an' all that kinda thing
rough but gentle
best ways
no bullshit
but talks such beautiful shit, spinning yarns like some hilarious spider cunt
taking me in his scarred arms and playing with my hair
calling when I'm not there
and it's love, terrifying, suddenly love
says he'll buy me a gun and we can drink whiskey and shoot things together
and that's what I find myself wanting constantly; to be together with him
even just doing fuck all
cos he does it so well, practised at it like me but more styled out, effortless
he isn't more or less of a trashbag than me either.
it's uncanny the things he says, the things I think, like them-two-grew-up-together
it's rough and tuff and tender
and his voice is all caramelcigaretteboozy
makes my head dizzy, makes my tummy woozy
an' i hafta find a way not to let on just how much he moves me, cos my eyes gimme away "hey big eyes, why's there water comin' outta ya big eyes?"



total makings of a self immolating alpha couple...here's hoping...