Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace.

Oscar Wilde

Fuck the world, fuck feeling anything; and if you do, make it your own; do what you love - love what you do. Embrace that; embrace emotion, feeling, existance. Who knows how long it'll be there for.

So tired my eyes sting, but sleep is lonely.

Half in, half out of the bus stop, watching the water build up in my shoes and trying exceptionally hard not to notice just how heavily the rain is pouring down or the number of people that are waiting for the same delayed bus. The music calming me through my oversized headphones lets me forget the weight of my shopping bags, the damp of my clothing, and the growl of my stomach. A body shifts and leaves the bus stop, revealing another behind it. He's unobviously handsome,with enormous blue eyes and a serious, almost sad expression etched into his face. Pale skin, dark hair. He's curiously observing the people around us. I move aside to let a woman stand in the shelter and catch his eye as I do so. Goosebumps form and a little flutter in my stomach replaces the feeling of hunger. We throw glances back and forth, missing one another only just.




b) The bus finaly turns up, completely stuffed with people. There's space right up the front for one or two more. We both make it on, standing right opposite one another. Condensation, bodies, and never ending red lights. He catches my gaze, smiling. I mimick this and blush. Typical! What feels like eternity later we reach my stop, I'm a couple of steps away from the bus dodging puddles and untangeling myself from the shopping bags and headphone cables he appears next to me. "hi" he says, smiling again. "hello" I respond.


a) The bus finaly turns up, completely stuffed with people. There's space right up the front for one or two more. We both make it on, standing right opposite one another. Condensation, bodies, and never ending red lights. He catches my gaze, smiling. I mimick this and blush. Typical! What feels like eternity later we reach my stop, I slowly get off, hoping he'll make a move. Nothing.
Why does this feel so familiar? So often there are moments like this, sparks flying, hearts beating faster; chemistry. And yet we don't speak of it, we don't lose ourselves in the moment, skip our stop to ask for a number or steal a kiss. Not in the real world.

playthis two

candyman shimmer - the checks

november has come - gorillaz

dream machine (down tempo mix) - Mark Farina + Sean

everything to me - lips

the hop - radio citizen

let's get lost - bat for lashes + beck

playlist one

spellwork - austra

and it rained all night - thom york

graveyard - feist

billie holiday - warpaint

new slang - the shins

your protector - fleetfoxes

good-bye

Looking into your eyes directly felt about as real as anything solid and true in this world.
I remember the blue-grey colour exactly, and the freckles surrounding them as though they were my own.
My stomach abnormally calm, as though the overwhelming butterflies that existed up until this very moment had never been.
That's what it feels like when it feels right.
I remember the dark blue sky, the heavy blanket of night surrounding us ,and the stars that studded it like pin holes. The cold liberating us from the heat of our bodies so powerful.
We had never stood so close to one another; our lips, hands, noses, stomachs moved so naturally together, as though they'd moved together before.
The months spent craving this moment creating a passion like no other.
And just like that we remember ourselves.
We speak of 'one day'
We return to civilised, eliminating the alternative.
My head spins with the blur and weight that comes with longing.
Back to how it really is - you; the taken man, and I; the intruder on loves firm grasp.