Coming home, coming down and calming down.

Say you love me.

I don't care if you mean it. I don't care if you even do in the slightest sense. I don't care if its pathetic. I don't care if you can never look at me the same way again.

Some part of me still craves: Affection, Intimacy, Tenderness, because I am human, still almost human. Is that what separates us from the animals? Do dolphins have souls? Do we love, or is it just a biological need?

Such is the burden of a developed consciousness. Of course many things confuse the pot. Like sheep shaggers, and inter-species erotica, and people who live their lives dying a virgin. There were probably 11 commandments, the last being thou shalt not love thy cow. Moses got down the mountain, saw these people worshiping a golden cow, flew into a rage, destroyed the cow, and let out a sigh of relief. "Lord," he probably said, "it is taken care of!" The lord being the lord of mysteries did not enlighten Moses on the discovery of New Zealand many years later, and the issue was laid to rest, on a slightly hardened greenish sheepskin carpet.

There are other mysteries we were built with. Such as the differences between men and women. It is something we have never been able to measure, men don't know what women want, and women don't really get men either. No matter where we're born, men and women speak a different language, an extreme example would be French or Japanese. One of mankind's greatest inventions was measurement, however, its still not perfect. An inch is about the length of a thumb, a foot, about the length of a foot, head, is about two fingers from the top of a glass, depending on the beer you're pouring. All guys like head. Women on the other hand don't (yes its a generalization). Most measurements are a rough estimation, due to things like parallax error, and the world being in constant flux. This was inspired by Bill Cosby trying to figure out what a cubit is. After his son died, he died as well, and a part of the world died with him, there will never be another great comedian like him.

Part of me would like to be loved, part of me would like to be isolated. Part of me would like to live, and part of me would like to end it all. I have to apologize for being vague. I do know what makes me happy, music, art, books, things that are beautiful, life's little ironies, the few people I actually care about. I do know what's missing, my drive, my conviction, my direction and destination. Who's going to drive you home, tonight?

Drive me home sweetheart, hold my cold lifeless body next to yours. Share with me some of your warmth, and blood will stir in my veins once again, my heart will beat once again, my eyes will open, my ears will hear, my tongue will taste the sweetness on your lips. There will be beauty in the world once again, the eternal kind of beauty, the kind without cynical critics who love the sound of their own voice above all. There will be you and I, in a moment, the closest to eternity and god any human can ever hope to achieve.

Say you love me.