Do you hear'em coming?
Do you feel their soft silky skin, rushing by you, almost touching you but never actually doing so?
Do you sense'em drifting in the corner of the eye, mixing up illusion and delusion, always promising and denying at the same time?
Do you hear them singing like Wendy James?
Can you listen to the muffled sound of their illusive footsteps?
Can you feel the momentum when something new is almost sprouting and suddenly it bursts into smithereens?
They allure and inspire. They divert and decoy.
They'll blow you a kiss, but it never reaches your cheeck - it's there, for all infinity, apparently getting near but never reaching it's destiny.
If you fall in love with the doomed are you to be doomed too?
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