My friend is in the closet never mind

Two floors up, on the far right hand side. The yellow of the kitchen spills into the night. This mimed seduction, this teasing silent flick.

How did it possibly come to this today? Last night was a sleepless, sweat-stained, lonely journey. the concerns of the night dug their nails deeply into the following morning. But at least a set of wise parents out there had had a good night's sleep and awoke to save the day, to put us all in our place, to set the next night off in style. The gathering of the food and drink, in preparation for our welcoming of our friends in two days time. The coffee and the cake, and the conversation that went along with it, defiant against the vicious rain. The party; not attended long, but long enough to accept the warm smile and the friendly eyes, a recognition of contact, of being pleased to see.

And then it carried further, this saved day, into the early hours of the next day. Time spent in Germany, America and now here; what does this do to a child? What sort of love does this stop them from bravely giving and accepting? take off those glasses, let down your hair, and feel your beauty. There was talk of her again; good talk, talk of respect and admiration, not a thought of anything physical - just as it had ended.

Two floors up, on the far right hand side. The unattainable heights of this new fixation. Where shall the teeth grasp this week? Where will they sink but gain no nourishment. I will run to you, and I will find you. I will starve on the way, my teeth will fall out and I will let them drop, but I will run to you and we will be together.

Two floors up, on the far right hand side. Is this the start of something new or the return of something long since escaped?

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