Intro: It is the mourning of loss, the moving of time, the failure of review,
the abandonment, and the future. It is the landscape of the body. It is floating, dancing, moving, shining, and rotating. It is the love that I love.
I always have nightmares when lying next to you. Even if you turned around and embraced me in your arms subconsciously and kissed my forehead, it only made my dream even more treacherous. I dreamed of quarrels, of a series of red lumps on the inner thighs, of the loneliness of wandering on the street. I'm so happy when I'm with you, but how much more happiness do I need to be numb enough to forget how crazy and subversive the world used to be when I was at my worst time. I have never been so happy before
I'm starting to miss you again. I miss you from my dreams, from my memories, from my childhood.
How can I say how I miss him, even though I am lying beside him, lying in his arms, I still miss him in my heart. The skin-to-skin contact. The temperature with the touch of your fingertips slightly melted away the cold in the air. I treasure every touch between us. Fluttering butterfly danced above the fire, and the tips of its wings are slightly ignited. As if every touch carried an electric current, I was hit by it from the back. The fireball of desire knocked me to the ground, and I rolled to his feet uncontrollably. I became the red apple on the tree to be touched and bite. My desire, if there is or not, like hot sand in the palm of the hand, slid all the way in along the cuff, and could never be stopped. I can only reappear and recall in repeated friction and collisions. Everything about the world and time was left behind, and the scent on his neck became the poison for me to escape time. I seem to be really addicted to it.
I wipe the sweating water off my body and sit in front of the bed. It has just rained outside, the water vapor mixed with the coolness comes in from the window, I am trying to calm down. The expressions that he came into my body keep popping up in my mind. His thick lips, and the freshly opened wine bottle cap on the ground. The moonlight shone on us through the blinds, just like he splattered white semen on my body. My lust seemed to be explained, perhaps I shouldn't have been looking for an explanation. There is always freedom in despair while making inquiries is helpless. When I was closely connected with him, I seemed to be bound more and more tightly to the ground, and then be thrown into the sky faster.
The tired dreams are rolling toward me like deep ocean waves, I am drowning, the desire to survive forces me to wake up and return to reality. I turn to you for help. Perhaps the emotional connection between two individuals can alleviate the bitterness of fate a little
While the dark and slient night alternates with light, moon begin to accompany.
I swear it was sunny when I went out, but clouds covered the sky soon after I got on the train. I looked out of the window, I drove slowly towards him on the train tracks again. I looked at the white couple sitting against me, each wearing elegant rings, arm in arm. They were in middle age, while the young I looked sadly at the horizon outside the window.
I seemed to understand on the train that I was destined to roam on the tracks all the time, from him to him, from happiness to happiness, from plains to hills. Always on the train, but never arrive.