Ecriture feminine (Overheard: No more club angels for you. We'll show you how damaged we really are.) La Sola is a libertine.
Ah - I get off on catching you off guard. Your limp body on the couch, your mouth wide eyed caught in freezeframe, I hit unpause, I am here, you are a vibrational. Your mind trembles like a heartbeat. You come and play some game with us, just one round, and go hide away in the room again. Everyone likes you. You and a friend's husband go on your fishing trip and I am at once with you on the metamorphosing piers, the two of you silently sidebyside like an intention, and then I am too at once away blowing your phone up with the crying of my yearning self. You are in the car driving somewhere and humming along to the sound of the engine. Everyone says you're odd and I do too and it hurts like a punch and it's on purpose. I am sending a letter on the other side of the war talking to you on the paper as I always do and your eye in the mail slot swings open with a unpretensive glow. Ah - and we fight about the r__l w_rld we don't talk about the past we fight because i cut at you when it hurts we don't talk about the future ah the things you love I passably smile about and i cry because I grew up in myopia and it's a barren attempt but I try to stem it with your body anyway because i cant, I won't, silently- in silence. And then I sit upright With all my silly ideas That you lie that you understand, And so I tolerate it all.