Savage

About some boy at a fair.

Autumn/Winter, Quarter moon rusted, lights, stage, other voices, other people and three buttons or was it two.

Such is fate, such is the universe that two floating intricate rapport of atoms molecules and ions are to meet and love, not just love each but love in its original sense, love in its true sense. Such is cold-hearted, cold-blooded messed up life that I would be led to someone, to a person, to a floating intricate rapport of atoms, molecules and ions (because soul is being too deep and science should rule the world). Such is life that our paths would cross, the nights should be polka-dotted with stars, fireworks are to explode and the universe itself should cave in and birth another tree, another elephant, our paths would cross and a wolf should howl at the moon for an unreachable, untouchable, unadulterated love and as irrelevant as we are, as unimportant as that moment is, such is life that I would be made, my rapport of atoms would be made to hold unto that moment, to cling to the thought of that moment.

I feel like I’m making a big deal out of this, out of what could be nothing, out of what could be everything.

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