Are You Mine?” Yes. “are You Mine?”

My Radar, After All These Years Of Sanity, Is Still Off When It Comes To What People Do Or Don't Mean.

We Intersect. He Says He Thanks Every Star That We Existed On The Same Celestial Plain. But Here We Are On Earth, Dirty, Well Used, A Man-made Throughway For Intersecting Dreams.

This Boy Has Negative Charisma. He Walks Into A Room And The Oxygen Starts To Evaporate. I Guess That's Why Girls Sleep With Him. They Find His Awfulness Transfixing. He's Like A Lousy 1970's Disaster Movie That They Can't Bring Themselves To Turn Off, Even Though It Is Making Their Life Worse Every Minute They Leave It On.

When He Kisses Me, I Cry. I Explain It's Not Because I Wish He Were Someone Else, It's Because It's Such A Shock To The System To Be Desired After Feeling So Completely Abandoned.

I Still Believe That You Truly Find Yourself Not In Travel, But In Other Human Souls.