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=   F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K.   =
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			MaxDaemonChildren
                        -----------------

	My lips are dry for want of kissing. You see, he lives far
away. He has a girlfriend. His life is one of content, all is orderly
and rearranged for maximum psychological stability. He has a stable job.
He cut his hair. He is cleanshaven now.

	Not like when we met.

	I will never forget it. I was 16, fucked up, scarred. I didn't
eat enough. I was in a psych ward, on the levels system, President of
the freaks. I was IQ tested and put in the same track as him. So we
met 'in school'.

	"Why?"

	That was it. One question. One word that spoke a thousand.
His eyes were haunted perfection. He stood, too thin, with hands
shoved into pockets, shoulders slumped, large loose sweater over
tye dye. His eyes burned into mine, and I knew that if I lied, he
would know.

	One second.

	That was all it took, and I knew that we were kindred.
He hummed Jane's Addiction as he typed furiously at a computer with
the monitor switched off. His dark hair covered one eye and touched
his shoulders rebelliously. His arms were scar covered from razors
and bowls. His skin was pale, his face unshaven. I loved him.

	"I thought you were lying through your teeth."

	We were in group, a tough one with a scary leader. This
is what he told me his first impression of me was. He was right.
He was honest. And he just didn't fucking care how angry he made
me.

	I have been searching for him in the shadows of other men
ever since.

	We're friends now. He tells me about work and his
girlfriend. He takes anti-depressants. We write hurried e-mail on
lunch breaks. There will always be a part of me, a tiny part of my
soul, that will be devoted to him. And somehow, I know, that I will
never find his equal, that he was my one chance, and that it will
be impossible to find another soul whose poetry is the same as my
own.

	We met at the wrong time.

	You want the truth? Fine. Here it is. Don't let go. When
someone can speak to your soul, reach you in the dark places,
smile at you when the flames are rushing over you, and laugh when
the sun is on your face, don't let go. It's all in the eyes.
When you know what I mean, then it is right, and you shouldn't
give up on it.

	Ever.

Palpable Obscure
"no one, not even the rain, has such small hands."

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