although probably not one and the same
3:10 a.m.

cg,

i. think. of. you.

so much.

disgusting, and it is hard to edit out of the faceless crowd

who might be you anymore. i feel like i might have forgotten your face.

it does all seem big.

and you. . .god, so unattainable, and wonderful in that way of being.

the intervals have felt nice,

but it is hard to arise in this city and not run the electricity of my unbalanced neurotransmitters against your flesh.

every once in a while i wake up.

the rest of the time i have to forget you exist to keep from acting like a...

like a stalker, like a lover, like a predator, like the curious student i am.

a little objectivism and throwing myself askew to off-kilter your opinion.

still paint my eyes every morning.

still wait for the connection.

Hunt me down in your library one of these Saturdays.

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