Thursday 16 August 2012

Hold The Flag

It’s too complex to be in four walls when you move and the snow falls and covers all your imagination and I walk upstairs the cottage to see everything swirl until I fall upon the covers and take off my glasses and ignore all the people who will start their calls with saying Karen, this is happening.

I just stretch myself wondering what was the meaning to just go up north in the country and be surrounded by snow and take longer to get to work, start the car and freeze myself until it’s warm and I just shove the books away, throwing a bunch to give to charity and it feels dumb sometimes to erase heterosexuality but sometimes the solution should be radical as I light a cigarette and smoke fills the room shielding the windows from the inside and now not only the snow lurks in the betweenings.

I wander off after I arrange the bookshelf alphabetically all about women who love women and a bit of Burroughs, only the gay ones, pulling a coat with a big blue hood and I feel like I am from a fairytale and with a cigarette between my teeth I drive with The Virgin Suicides soundtrack in, a reminder of how I had found Kirsten Dunst too attractive when I was younger and how I had my first sex dreams dancing with a woman, holding hands.

I open the window, sitting in, knees against the wheel and I turn the car off, walking out and walking into the small rainbow looking bar and I throw the cigarette out, showing the ID being over twenty and walking into the rainbow field with men and women going nature, a few trannies dancing on the dancefloor, men drinking and women laughing and I lean against a couch, not even getting a drink as I see a women with long hair walking past and laughing, holding her brow and sipping her alcohol in a over grown long sleeved gray sweater and I smile at her just to get drunk with her in a few drinks.

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Hold The Flag2

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