astronaut ambition

a wanting need

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Mon Jul 17 00 / 2:38 AM

I think I'm addicted to ... something.

On a full moon Saturday night, I looked around my yellow-lit room and felt like I was missing ... something. Truly, you can't actually feel something that isn't there to be felt. I suppose instead I was feeling a little placebo sentiment; a tiny proxy nothing that wouldn't even pass in the dark. A poor excuse for ... something.

Having once had it, I can't remember what it was. It must have been that good.

It could have been chemical. Where are my illicit whatevers? said the body. Where is the attack by sea-form and by air-? I was ready to take you to death with a laugh on your breath; a lucidity on your brain, but now you abstain. I can't abide, I can't abide.

Or maybe emotional. I'm a girl, said the oft-hid brain bit. I want satisfaction and fulfillment in a reverse order for once. I miss you. I want to cuddle. Tell me I'm pretty. Flatter the XX. Please?

Oh, I don't know. I gave it no more thought and settled in to the disquiet withdrawl.

The fix: Sam called and queried my Sunday night plans. Of course, of course I will hang out with you and let you compliment me and have you listen to my stories! I will return the favour too and thus keep up the stimulation circulation. And maybe James will come so I can have two needles in the crook of my arms.

So I am an attention junkie, and I whore myself for it. Surely you can forgive me, for I supply you just as you dish it out. Serve me and we'll be the for and away veins of a candy heart.

BE MINE

I'm so hungry.

</>

Lisa Higgs

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*a wanting need*
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latest archive about email links yearbook japan photoblog wish list	Mon Jul 17 00 / 2:38 AM I think I'm addicted to ... something. On a full moon Saturday night, I looked around my yellow-lit room and felt like I was missing ... something. Truly, you can't actually feel something that isn't there to be felt. I suppose instead I was feeling a little placebo sentiment; a tiny proxy nothing that wouldn't even pass in the dark. A poor excuse for ... something. Having once had it, I can't remember what it was. It must have been that good. It could have been chemical. Where are my illicit whatevers? said the body. Where is the attack by sea-form and by air-? I was ready to take you to death with a laugh on your breath; a lucidity on your brain, but now you abstain. I can't abide, I can't abide. Or maybe emotional. I'm a girl, said the oft-hid brain bit. I want satisfaction and fulfillment in a reverse order for once. I miss you. I want to cuddle. Tell me I'm pretty. Flatter the XX. Please? Oh, I don't know. I gave it no more thought and settled in to the disquiet withdrawl. The fix: Sam called and queried my Sunday night plans. Of course, of course I will hang out with you and let you compliment me and have you listen to my stories! I will return the favour too and thus keep up the stimulation circulation. And maybe James will come so I can have two needles in the crook of my arms. So I am an attention junkie, and I whore myself for it. Surely you can forgive me, for I supply you just as you dish it out. Serve me and we'll be the for and away veins of a candy heart. BE MINE I'm so hungry.
	</>
Lisa Higgs
.