The fox and I knew basically no. Him I had never seen alone, and thus to limit our sporadic conversations between the hash alkoholbenebelten and after stinking parasites usually only banal everyday things, and - most importantly - to praise and gentle vows of love to the Queen.
I knew he loved her body and soul, and he knew I would die for them if they asked me even once about and we both knew that we knew and were silent locker gay our vibrant emotions buried dead, our gift green jealousy in a dark, deep hole and stabbed - in spite of everything - like scorpions at each other, about the competition but still, somehow, no matter what is the price to disappear out of the way to her. We knew we
hardly knew each other and yet so good. His paradoxical occurrence - the eyes, which seemed to agree on a color, the body that did not know if he had to be large or small, muscular or too skinny, too light, dark voice - confused and fascinated me in a grotesque and strange ways. I did not know if the hatred I felt, when the Queen like a cat clinging to him, her nails like claws into his neck, or whether the pleasure that seemed to take over my whole body when they kissed, the feeling was worse.
As they had met was never mentioned, was always a side issue was, a fact that they went and never commented on in detail. At one point he was just been there and never slipped from her side. "As your shadow," I had told her one evening and the Queen smiled and had a simple "We are both a shadow, none of us belongs to light" is returned.
front of the house were numerous puddles, their heads - like me, who sat outside the door - the shy, behind the cotton candy clouds, peeping out, the sun rose up into.
The road was laid silently, almost like having slashed their wrists and the deep red sap gushing from her leave.
No bird sang the songs of spring, which was already awake and waited impatiently. No tree was prudent delicate blossom buds. No ray of sunlight danced wild rainbows in the sky.
It was quiet, almost dead, decayed, and yet so vivid, colorful.
"Happy Birthday" said the fox. "In retrospect, I think." I looked
at him as he was standing right behind me, shrugged his shoulders, half-smiling.
He sat down beside me, ran through the dark blond hair and looked short to me. "You drink that?"
Again, I shrugged and looked at the bottle in my hand. "What can I say? I'm trying to amuse. "I lifted the bottle. "To me!"
He made a "Hm, that sounded strong after suppression allegations. As his head briefly on the knees bent and supported with a grin then looked back at me, I snapped at him. "What?"
"What do you like?"
"This Hm"
"Nothing," he replied, "I was just surprised it."
"This is pure self-medication, so that's clear. Otherwise, I come here not clear. "
" You drink the world beautiful? "
" I drink it tolerable to me. Drinking beautifully worked never always ends at some point in throwing up. "
The fox chuckled, lifted his head and looked at me long before he cleared his throat. "And what do you have such plans for for the new year?
"None at all. I just live further into the day until I scrape some day. "
" And when I look at you so, that will not likely so long endure. "
I laughed. "Oh, how I love those conversations." Blue Brown Green Grey met in a stormy hug, danced pirouettes, mingled with it. "Do you play now, my big brother who takes away the bottle gently to me and then howls with me about my slightly broken body?"
We broke the eye contact is not down, still staring as magnetized to the face of the other. One step - a small, timid - forward and we would race each other, unite us and break us simultaneously in millions of parts. One step - a tiny, hesitant - back and we would be away from each other, the moment to lose, we lose and burn away in the vastness.
The street was silent, loud, dead, alive. His eyes were brown, green, shiny, dull. In my euphoria and depression pulsating united in an act of desire.
"I did not mean the alcohol or drugs," said the fox finally, "If you're somehow already quite dead only a matter of time until you finally give up completely."
I knew he loved her body and soul, and he knew I would die for them if they asked me even once about and we both knew that we knew and were silent locker gay our vibrant emotions buried dead, our gift green jealousy in a dark, deep hole and stabbed - in spite of everything - like scorpions at each other, about the competition but still, somehow, no matter what is the price to disappear out of the way to her. We knew we
hardly knew each other and yet so good. His paradoxical occurrence - the eyes, which seemed to agree on a color, the body that did not know if he had to be large or small, muscular or too skinny, too light, dark voice - confused and fascinated me in a grotesque and strange ways. I did not know if the hatred I felt, when the Queen like a cat clinging to him, her nails like claws into his neck, or whether the pleasure that seemed to take over my whole body when they kissed, the feeling was worse.
As they had met was never mentioned, was always a side issue was, a fact that they went and never commented on in detail. At one point he was just been there and never slipped from her side. "As your shadow," I had told her one evening and the Queen smiled and had a simple "We are both a shadow, none of us belongs to light" is returned.
front of the house were numerous puddles, their heads - like me, who sat outside the door - the shy, behind the cotton candy clouds, peeping out, the sun rose up into.
The road was laid silently, almost like having slashed their wrists and the deep red sap gushing from her leave.
No bird sang the songs of spring, which was already awake and waited impatiently. No tree was prudent delicate blossom buds. No ray of sunlight danced wild rainbows in the sky.
It was quiet, almost dead, decayed, and yet so vivid, colorful.
"Happy Birthday" said the fox. "In retrospect, I think." I looked
at him as he was standing right behind me, shrugged his shoulders, half-smiling.
He sat down beside me, ran through the dark blond hair and looked short to me. "You drink that?"
Again, I shrugged and looked at the bottle in my hand. "What can I say? I'm trying to amuse. "I lifted the bottle. "To me!"
He made a "Hm, that sounded strong after suppression allegations. As his head briefly on the knees bent and supported with a grin then looked back at me, I snapped at him. "What?"
"What do you like?"
"This Hm"
"Nothing," he replied, "I was just surprised it."
"This is pure self-medication, so that's clear. Otherwise, I come here not clear. "
" You drink the world beautiful? "
" I drink it tolerable to me. Drinking beautifully worked never always ends at some point in throwing up. "
The fox chuckled, lifted his head and looked at me long before he cleared his throat. "And what do you have such plans for for the new year?
"None at all. I just live further into the day until I scrape some day. "
" And when I look at you so, that will not likely so long endure. "
I laughed. "Oh, how I love those conversations." Blue Brown Green Grey met in a stormy hug, danced pirouettes, mingled with it. "Do you play now, my big brother who takes away the bottle gently to me and then howls with me about my slightly broken body?"
We broke the eye contact is not down, still staring as magnetized to the face of the other. One step - a small, timid - forward and we would race each other, unite us and break us simultaneously in millions of parts. One step - a tiny, hesitant - back and we would be away from each other, the moment to lose, we lose and burn away in the vastness.
The street was silent, loud, dead, alive. His eyes were brown, green, shiny, dull. In my euphoria and depression pulsating united in an act of desire.
"I did not mean the alcohol or drugs," said the fox finally, "If you're somehow already quite dead only a matter of time until you finally give up completely."
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