unsaid words could have been kisses

i want to start by saying that: unsaid words could have been kisses. this is a thing that's true. i also think unsaid words could have been:

____- stories about that time
____- a sigh
____- something you said instead with your eyes
____- and sometimes there are no words anyway for what might need to be (un)said
____- the dream you forgot about
____- sticking your tongue out and smiling with your eyes and laughing with your body (it is possible)
____- everything i had ever hoped to tell some.no-one all wrapped up in perfect silence

there are other things. there are always other things. like dancing. which is a thing that you do with your body. like if you shake the string hard enough and balloon starts to move around in the sky, like that, if i shake my body hard enough somewhere somehow my soul has a jiggle giggle gigue of its own.

love too. and the whirrr of ceiling fans, is love really a game of inches because... if so, why are we all soo far from home?

can someone hold my hand and run like madness from nowhere aimed directly without vacillation on perfectly focussed point nowhere ahead of us and not stop for grass or Mondays or the water at the beach is soo warm these days and all i really want to say is... is...

also sometimes i just want to practice this weird concept i have in my head, a theory of art, a theorem of creating art centered around a non-cheezy, non-lame-o-saurus happiness- which manages to do it without being... sanguine and ridiculous. i want everything in life to be little miss sunshine which was is soo real and soo true and soo yes (everything that is yess is soo good to the soul and the touch, and sometimes even when women let me, to the kiss and to the palm to skin and the skin to skin and everything so soft and yes) do you see what i mean?

life is still the terrible tragedy it always was, except i swear i hear more bells in my head nowadays, i can't place them obviously, and so account them to the only true-thing they can be (fairies obviously). if not that then the game of inches leading me along and

have i mentioned dancing yet? which i did like a lunatic. again. and which i can't find it in me to regret (sorry sorry sorry it's soo ok to look like a foolio when you do)

if i am wrong i am right. (luckily i'm almost always wrong. (ask Mar)

errrr. i'm not saying anything that these are just unsaid words that could have been butterflies or sunday smiles or children scared of fireflies or beauty-pageant contestants crying at coming in second and high-schoolers adjusting their ties and pregnant women putting their feet up. i'm not saying anything but unsaid words that could have been Ajax's prayer from the Iliyad or Medusa feeling soo sad about how everything went down or myself, hating myself for all the terrible things i do that make me feel soo wonderful, and thinking thinking thinking thoughts that are nothing at all that people can see or rub their fingers along or put their noses to and whiff, but still are soo evident and a person with ugly ones is sooner or later soo found out and...

no.
it's not...

who are we people?

________(what strange place is this?)