After the rain, the streets are impossibly smooth here as if they were composed of silk and not crumbled brick. They twist haphazardly throughout this city like ribbons strewn about, like they were dropped from the sky and left here by some lazy god.  In my own town I feel alone, but out here these ribbons drape around my body like lovers limbs.

I’ll never sleep alone out here, but in my own home, not a single tongue has ever took the shape of my name. Not a single arm has ever formed the curve of my shoulders. If I had touched you the way I touch these old brick roads, I would have never had to visit this place.

But its probably far too late. I dont know. My mind doesnt think clearly these days. I have an empty bottle and a birthday card with my name spelled wrong.
I have expletives and hard words in my memory and a couple of songs that make me feel as if the future is bright, man.

I have everything I could possibly need and I dont want a single bit of it. I come out here because not a god damn thing in this city belongs to me and nothings more romantic than that. Everyone here moves without my legs and they build without my arms. They all kiss without my lips and the ladies wear the most beautiful sundresses. They capture my heart and keep moving. The sort of girls who get a little too tipsy on the first date and kiss you in mid sentence and then walk away due to embarrassment which is the most annoying and sexy thing a woman can do.
Here in this place, the mouths all chatter and I walk closely enough to hear voices, but far enough to not make out the words like the humming of hymns outside of cathedrals.  It all sounds so gorgeous out of context,  but to take part would rob it of all its beauty due to the simple fact that the truth that lies behind any noun is hardly as fantastic as the surface.  Like bright green, landscaped graveyards with marble and ivory placed perfectly makes us forget the rot placed below.

Logic always crumbles under the weight of obsession. This place bore through me and took place of all rational thought. It’s ribbons began to fray and tie themselves in knots around my extremities.  So how could I expect any type of reprieve from coming home when I can no longer even hear their whimpers for my return? No, I couldn’t be gone long enough.

The rest of the world is consistently in frantics. Trampling each other due to some sort of instinctual pull that has always eluded me. Pushing themselves further upstream and straight into the jaws of awaiting bears. The humor of one species deep rooted instinct driving it to become nothing more than plaque on the teeth of another. So, I stopped swiming and I keep floating away out to sea, here in the middle of nowhere, to this strange town. At first, I am enveloped in the deepest black, but every morning at dawn, when the rest of the world sits chewed in the stomachs behind the mouths of bears, the sun from above the surface turns my town into the most astonishing blue hue just like the sea and, similarly, I float slowly to the bottom of it with ribbons tied around my neck and wrists and legs.