i am thinking about you.
BBC Radio 1 is playing 80s music, and I am thinking about you.

"Don't you... forget about me. 
As you walk on by
will you call my name ...
Don't you ... forget about me ...
Or will you walk away"
(Simple Minds)

You and your caged teeth and your caged heart and our caged embrace, these things still make my vision swim and my throat constrict and my lower lip pucker and pressure itself against my upper lip to contort my baby cheeks into an old hag's.  

This is interesting to me, what you fulfilled of my 80s dreams.  Hidden 80s and early 90s dreams I never ever understood.

Oh, our ethnographic love.  Our end of the era eroticism.  Our fashion fetishism.  My daddy santa claus preacher man Validation-Salvation complex.  Your ... well, for once I will refrain from speaking on your behalf.  From thinking for you.  From beating you to the punch.  One day, you tell me.  Your what, exactly? 

It was Ours.  That's what makes me hurt.  That's the pus in my lungs.  I stared at that lostness at sea in your eyes so long I dropped my map to find my way out.

I find myself wondering what would happen to my constitution if I could be prescribed a testosterone patch, for the sickness of "missing a man in my life" ...?

I can't believe I put these thoughts on a public forum.