fandango for the saint

so my question is, why does it all come down to a tangle of arms and legs, and the rules of engagement. sex sex sex. don't get me wrong, i'm a very very big fan, but i know too well the complications, when heads or hearts get roused more than the flesh.

here am i, trying to live a life a little freer, with love and fewer rules. but it seems rules are the rule after all. today i ran into a friendly fondlee, and that was nice, but for the first time he seemed awkward. yesterday, before sweet ring tones, we talked about missing and other people's curves, and all i felt was nothing. we dance a champion dance around the black hole that speaks of lonely, the void that says we're going it alone, when the tally of the days is reckoned. but you don't really go it alone. and i don't really want to. my needs: debriefing, in both senses of the word, and the crook of a warm arm to lay my head upon.

i miss you, far away.