......................

Every crossroad of eye contact with him makes your chest contract. But that the most intimate you'll get with him tonight. The bands encapsulated by the music, jerking their bodies; To the beat of the drums; To the soothing of the synth; To the punch of the ugly stick. And your just standing there, arms crossed, watching some girl do her "look at me, look at me" dance. Fast forward half an hour, and your walking back to your friends, leery eyed and dizzy, eyes shifting around searching. And then they run into his and automatically you've made it awkward- you are a complete disaster. Fuck. This conversation is a train wreck. Fuck. But your cigarettes save you from it. You wish you were destroyed- so talking would be easier. Howl are playing now- it's just another game of stare and look away now.

m.