Two storts

Sort two.
Woo two.
Who knew.
Too few.

There are two sorts of people in this world.
Those who laugh and those who cry.

Those tricky people that ask you a question that you must answer.
Those wasteful words, wanting answer. Sitting between us.
asking to share across the foggy void that laps at your eyes, ears and chest.
Your feet, your knees and pushes at the backs of your arms.
up up up.
Two sorts of people, yes.
One whom laughs.
The next, they cry.
Always and anyway. Its either one on the other.
I see you laughing, and I can see that you could choose to do the other.
I’d bring it up, but why would I want to turn the mood.
You’re laughing now, so i’m crying for you.
When I cry, you laugh.
I am a human see-saw.

For every laugh you make, another somewhere in the world is silence.
A cry breaks out. Somewhere else there is silence.
A cry breaks out. A laugh breaks out.
Somewhere else, two people share a silence.
What a beautiful moment to have witnessed.

Opposites attract.
I take upon myself both.
Stay away from me.
Stay away.
Let me negate all else.

/i/The place didn’t look bad

she had huge thighs
and a very good laugh
she laughed at everything
and the curtains were yellow
and I finished
rolled off
and before she went to the bathroom
she reached under the bed and
thew me a rag.
it was hard
it was stiff with other men’s
I wiped off on the sheet.

when she came out
she bent over
and I saw all that behind
as she put Mozart

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