i hope i don't sound too ungrateful

i don't exactly know how to put this, a few pints of red stripe on pubs too many, a few sips of red wine too many, a few songs danced to on death disco too many, and a journey home too long not to get disturbingly drunkenly serious on. morrissey, though you've made an aching heart feel - so many times before, you'll have to excuse. and conor, though i still want tear drenched and desperate sex with you, you'll have to excuse. when it comes to violent loneliness there is no one, no one, on this planet who can, or rather could, describe it like joakim berg did in -94. when you don't want the stranger on the bus to get off and leave you to your solitude, when even his unfamiliar face seems somehow comforting, just the warmth of him somewhat close to you, just another person, not a word, not even a glance, just knowing it's not just darkness and nothing else. that's stanna hos mig. for possible (who am i kidding) english readers, stay with me, but you'll never understand anyway.