Autopsy of An Um Friendship

I might self-destruct at any minute tick tick boom goes the dynamite it’s suppression confusion so tangled i can’t even put it into words What a tangled web i weave. Or we weave. Is it you or i at fault? it’s just that i am sensitive to things (under) the surface a pulse of a real conversation inside the rhythm of our idle chatter but like the tides, um friend i roll with the moon and when I want to flow out you? moon? pull me back into the strands of Um Friendship. So “where is this going?” I want to shout WHERE IS THIS GOING? but “the rules” and fear keep me tied to the beach prey for the black widow ex and things that go bump in the night like kisses and caresses and smiles and going with the flow means facing those things again and I don’t know if I can. And I don’t know if you know if you can Are you trapped with me in the shadows of the moonlight.... ....or do I stand alone? That is all I want to know, um friend. I pretend I don’t care or that I don’t think about these things..but... When “going with the flow” means swinging between heaven and hell from second to second rolling tides sticky web strings real conversations? Are you with me? WHERE IS THIS GOING? (do I want to know?)