[ Only want sympathy in the form of-- His mind squashes out the rest. Fuck the song, the City, and everything it stands for. They're whirling across the cobbled walkway a crazy spin-gig. It's like a continuation of their fights, moving in, the daring twirls, and then a kick, a leap, one, two, three. But it also works exactly as it does in a fight (or a fuck?) -- the tension and static between them, of deception and dislike, melting into pure movement and sensation. ]
[ Like her, he's always found his consolations, his distractions, in touch. ]
[ While she breaks the gap in a twirl, he focuses on her snapping blue eyes -- her one beauty when the rest of her is bristling 17 year old impatience. (One beauty? So uncharitable, tsk, tsk). His gaze slips other places. Hips, breasts, mouth, swaying hair. ]
[ The song's ending -- that hot shower at home -- can't happen fast enough. ]
action;
[ Like her, he's always found his consolations, his distractions, in touch. ]
[ While she breaks the gap in a twirl, he focuses on her snapping blue eyes -- her one beauty when the rest of her is bristling 17 year old impatience. (One beauty? So uncharitable, tsk, tsk). His gaze slips other places. Hips, breasts, mouth, swaying hair. ]
[ The song's ending -- that hot shower at home -- can't happen fast enough. ]