ich

I keep a hard heart. I keep a safe heart. I keep a heart like a complicated equasion, two, three, four steps removed from the touch of reality and buried in supposition, cause and effect, action and reaction. There is little touch, and the caress that brings most hearts up or down is ones and zeros to me. It is factored in. It is tabulated and compared and theorized and then gains meaning through the strange series of cause and effect that has been proven to me over time. If they are interested in you, it is probably insincere unless they want to sleep with you. If they want to sleep with you, they will not want to do so more then once. There is something wrong with me. I am fading. If they touch you, it means that in that moment, you are okay. When you touch me it is cold. The impulse must creep from one equation to the next, finding context, meaning, through these things until it affects my world. These is a steep divide between physicality and reality for me. I do not trust intentions.