TOUCHMEDONOTTOUCHMEIAMALIVE

Friday, October 16, 1970

Fig. 021

A declaration of independence.

They call it a car. She calls it a home. I call it a beast. I become sick. Violent retching. All is well now. To finally be beside her. This is awkward only in the fact that it is not awkward. For so long we played cat and mouse. I'd catch her, only to loosen my grip as a fool might do. No more games. We are not animals. Not of that variety, anyway. I crave her like a wolf does. That phrase only tickles me now. I used to mean it in such a feral sense. Now it comes across in a metaphorical sense. I need her. What is all this? It's funny how we play in these circles. Years go by and everything changes. Nothing ever changes. We run free on a track. That does not even resemble free. We explode into the air, encased in glass bubbles. Will it be too late before we learn to break through? Or is this how we break through? Do we simply continue to try until the glass shatters. If so, am I shattering it by making headway this time? Will I lose out again? Perhaps I will only crack it this time. God, I hope not. I feel like this must be it. Watch me. Just watch me. You'll see.