~ raindrop calamities ~

i'm facing the street lamp outside my window right now. its light is seeping through the shutters and tiny prisms of rain are glittering with oddly white hue.

it's good here. harmony is still to be regained but otherwise... it's good. only when i sit down for a while and let my thoughts and emotions float unoccupied i can't resist this feeling that always lurks in silence when i'm far away from home.

maybe it's my imagination. maybe this feeling of semi-existence in a shadow-like or a wind-like state is just an indicator of my oversensitivity. but what if i simply need to touch people? hug, and cuddle, pat, caress, do stuff with hair or just sit close to someone, lean on a being with a beating heart and a radiant soul. what if i find it hard to live without those moments when my thoughts melt with someone else's, when i feel we're both roaming in a very intimate and vulnerable area. a soft place where people can be truly themselves and - truly with others.

leave me out with the waste
this is not what I do
it's the wrong kind of place
to be thinking of you

it's the wrong time
for somebody new
it's a small crime
and I've got no excuse

damien rice's embracing voice in the speakers kinda makes it only more vivid. the people i've met here so far are warm and open so i can easily regard myself as lucky. the but here is that it's not the idea because i'm the one who can't live on without touching. when the post-arrival dizziness and enthusiasm have passed, the longing for a true together-being is settling in and preparing to turn me into a spiritually transparent, ontologically unconfirmed passer-by.
longing for the essence. for instead of a ribbon around my wrist, i'd prefer some true blood in my veins.

give my gun away when it's loaded