Seemingly a mess,
messily a seam

Hypothetical: content, complacent, he sees something so far out of his
world that he must bring it in.

Start;  a slight tapping not to be confused with disbelief.

	"I came to apologize."
	"What for?"
	"I -- this is not the way to start."
	Silence.
	"Would you mind some conversation?"
	"Not at all, come in."

Situation -- iridescent visage, a real mask.  This is shelter; there
is no escape.  Starting over.

	"This is a stupid game."
	"Sorry?"
	"It's a game.  I'm playing a game with myself."
	Silence.

Struck dead by radiance.  Someone's got to win.

	"I love your smile.  I shouldn't say that."
	"Thank you."
	Silence.
	"If you mean it, why not?"
	"People are unprepared for honesty."
	"All people?"
	"Most people."
	"Are you honest?"

Catch as catch can.  I have ulterior motives, if I only knew what they
were.

	"I like to try."
	"The same."
	Silence.
	"Are you all right?"
	"I'm fine."
	"Depressed?"

Buttons are depressed; I'm simply disappointed at the unromantic
nature of everyday life.  Sitting on your floor with my head against
the door and wondering how to begin.

	"Muddled."
	"You?"
	"That's muddled too."
	"Things get confused."
	"Look, I have no reason for coming here."
	"Then what do you want?"
	"I don't know."
	"You don't know?"
	"Why do you suppose I'm here?"

Dawning.  Fright concealed, transpirations recognized as eternally immutable.  Choose.

	"You want to know what you want."
	"Right."
	"What are you trying to do?"
	"Too much.  Nothing.  The difference?"
	"And me?"
	"A friend."
	"Is that all?"
	Silence.

Should it be?  Pick the nits from this homegrown corpse.  Comfortably
between nothing and nowhere.  Wars are lost; I'm betting on
clairvoyance.

	"A friend.  What do we have in common?"
	"Nothing.  I could fall in love with you."
	"What?"
	"Do I scare you?"
	"No."
	"Do I excite you?"
	"In a way."
	"In what way?"
	"You're refreshing."

Citrus juices are refreshing;  I'm dangling myself out to the void.

	"I've been bored, alone."
	"Where is she?  I haven't seen her--"
	"Gone for a while."
	"How do you get along?"
	"We're very, well, close."
	"How close?"
	"Too close?"
	"Would you say familiarity breeds contempt?"
	"Sometimes."
	"And in general?"
	"I'd need a basis for comparison."

Heavily -- the air, a reeking of too much attention to nothing; still,
eyes comprehend more of an unacknowledged story.

	"Why me?"
	"Should I leave?"
	"No, stay."
	"I'd love to."
	"I have a question."
	"Ask."
	"Do you sleep with her?"

This is not prescribed.  Ask anyway.

	"Are you jealous?"
	Silence.
	"You should be."
	"Why?"
	Silence.
	
Perhaps, then, I'm too far on my cord of facade.  Staring in your eyes
with my hands on your thighs and wondering how to beg --

	"I want you in my world."
	"I have my own."
	"Is that a yes or a no?"
	"I don't know."
	"When will you?"
	Silence.
	"I shouldn't be here."
	"Where should you be?"
	"Should I be here?"
	"When you said you loved me--"
	"I don't know what I meant."
	Silence.

Refutation is for the incompetent.  Incomprehensibility is for the weak.

	"I can't make up my mind, how do you suppose I can make up yours?"
	"You'd know better than I could."
	"Really?"
	"I'm catatonic."
	"I'm a poor choice for resurrection."
	"You're not."
	"You don't want me in your world.  You want you in mine."
	"Maybe I want the impossible."
	"You are impossible."
	
A snake eating its tail is impossible.  I'm simply trying to get
myself out of my skin.

	"I like to watch people talk.  They never say anything."
	"Do we?"
	"Do we?"
	"Do you like people?"
	"Not really."
	"I suppose there's no reason you should."
	"There's always make-believe."
	Silence.

Shifting backward, a sparkle of defiance:

	"You think I don't know what you mean?"
	"Do you?"
	"Do you want me to?"
	"If I knew that--"
	"You've said that before.  Decide."
	"I can't."
	"Why not?"
	"Would I lose you?"
	"Is that important to you?"
	"It's a circular argument."

Geometry; that is, two parallel lines never converge.

	"It's a matter of degree."
	"Stay with me, then."
	"I want to too much."
	"That's denial."
	"That's free will."
	"It's self-torture."
	"For me or for you?"
	"To you, I am you."
	"That's merely semantic."
	"So is this love."
	"So this is love?"
	"Is it?"
	"It's a game.  You're playing a game with yourself."
	"I'd forgotten."
	"Good.  Forget."

Invitation is an exodus.  Exhale.  Flesh is no failure.

End; a slight tapping not to be confused with belief.