Life is Shorter

They're all passing now. My heart aches today. Not the impaling kind, but the hurt that is incessantly reminding the rest of my body that something is out of tune. He sings out of key, but I love it. I'm uneased when I think about how there is always that minor gliche that keeps that red light from glowing. I want him... to think of me too. I hate distance, but I like driving. Drive, drive, drive this to the ground and give me something perfect, something for real this time. He gets me without words, it's magnetic. It's pulling hard, but it's messy in the middle. With my list he's first, on his list I'm not. So much riff raff, so little time. It's one big chain reaction, really. I'm on their top, their on my bottom, he's on my top, I'm on his bottom. I'm sick, it's urgent. He must know that I like it on top, but maybe I should just tell him... no. Something beautiful must be waiting in that room. The one with an ocean breeze, windows for walls, and all the toys, but no games... just toys.