my insatiable one

Today I return to 'the project'...

Yesterday I heard Suede’s My Insatiable One and I thought of you. I thought of us as two tall, lanky men, drinking in a small bar. And there we are walking along the cold streets of London and Paris, being wistful and carefree. We softly collide into each other as we stroll drunkenly and dreamily, without destination, talking and not talking. I look at the river.

We're wanting each other without ever going there. We're imagining futures together in the quiet of our own thoughts – oh, the places we could go. Insatiable longing, languid and warm. And your hand sweeps through your hair, putting it back in its place. And I watch and wait for you to tell another story. I want to put my arm around you, or pull you closer, or fall into you. But I just fall into your words and stories as I echo the pattern of your steps. Your feet are smaller than they should be, just like your hands which could easily fit inside mine. Your arms are crossed. My hands are in pockets. I watch you, I see the river, but everything else is nothing I see. I imagine I’ll fall into the river and drown, smiling.

I stop, I let myself go soft, and I fall to the water. Hands in pockets, I let the current take me where it will. Some days later I wake on an Australian beach. It's hot, there's wind, and my skin is bare and sticky. I sweep my hair from my face. I can see and hear everything. I vomit until I cry.