the perfect people tend to love one another. but there are also people who aren't perfect, who love perfect people, including me.

for these days when i lay flatchested on frosted solitude. i miss my impossible person. he swims in another direction, towards another ocean but we swim in parallel paths, in perfect symmetry. perfect symmetry. sometimes i want to climb over to that river and press my lips against his, and explore the wonderland behind his lips. but that wonderland isn't mine to explore. my tongue doesn't fit in like a piece of puzzle, it doesn't stick out far enough from my distribute of the river.

im swimming through every little thing that can poison and intoxicate my head with thoughts of what's under the water on the other side. how warm the movement of the wave on the other side could be, rushing like a thousang sensation in and out of my skin. it can collapse softly on my veins in no constant pace. except im not fit for that river.

like a straight line trying to intertwine with a curve, it just doesn't work that way. not in this dimension or any other dimension of thought.

and for once in my life i'm not spilling my jars of thoughts like a child's scraping knee. there is always a little bit of sacrifice in every lip bite, in every nevermind and any forced laugh afterward. luckily i don't need to do all that, because of the illusion created by the layers of glass built through time. to the point of perfect distortion.

layers of glass so strong it not only needs to distort vision but also to seperate the force created by false sources. when something cannot start it cannot end. it can only cease to possibly exist in any circumstance. which is what it started with, and supposed will end with.

there is a long, very long list of why it should exist. except there is just one thing, it can't. somethings don't fit in the very nature no the impossibility of imposibility. somethings are perfect match but not a perfect fit. it's just circumstance.

it's just incredibily funny to find an exact piece that matches doesn't fit. it's like two pieces of puzzles that fit perfectly but are part of different pictures. that's it. that must be why.

love doesn't consider sex, only gender. but again, that's just me.
nobody should speak of love these days anyway, for nobody really values that word as they slip it between their tongues anymore.

im not the only one born in the wrong body.
and yet i feel like i have not rambled enough this time. for i am always refraining from i truly have to say. i just can't spill it anymore.