(la la la la la la la ala ala la ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala)

I miss elegance walking by my side, silence listening to my every word, white holding my hand, silk caressing my cheeks.

I miss cinnamon and incense invading my lungs, dark glasses filled with seawater imprisoning my eyes, vermillion feathers tickling my nose.

I miss the trembling of passionate and perfect skin to bring me safety, the moistness of a curious tongue to make me lose myself from this world, rough whimpers and needy moans to be myself again.

I miss the embrace and the movements so painful with pleasure, perhaps I miss an arm, a leg, my vision or hearing.

I miss my heart's reflection, which is also the piece that completes me and gives meaning to all rest.

I miss you.

You. How can my entire life fit in just three letters...

(la ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala ala)

I never had the will to follow a drunk man's random steps, but then again there's nothing young in their walk.

I never felt my heart smiling at the laughter of a child, but then again their voice is too acute.

I never felt the urge to savor a drop of honey, but then again its flavor is so sweet and not salty (although its color is perfect).

I never felt complete while looking at this scorching sky, but then again this shade of blue is not enough.

I never liked the orange of this sunset much, but then again I could never unzip it and reveal something even more beautiful beneath it.

I never had the desire to comb this golden sand, but then again it feels so rough and withered to the touch.

I never felt interest in caressing the whiskers of a cat, but then again it's not really whiskers that I seek (actually, what really are those?)

I never wanted to touch the fire that heats this desert night, but then again it's pleasure and not pain that I expect from a person's fire.

I never knew so many parts of you were all around me, but all scattered, dead and imcomplete, they are not you.

The desert where I live has no life. You are life, yours and mine.

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Dear readers of Lord Kazekage's mental journal,

I'm sorry to inform you that today Gaara of the Desert won't make an update. Naruto Uzumaki has just arrived at the Sand Village, and Lord Kazekage says he'd rather use this time to go live his feelings than to write about them. If it serves as some sort of compensation, the two of them do seem particularly eager to meet and be together, so it should be a pleasant experience. I will now ask you to leave and return some other day, perhaps tomorrow, when this part of our leader's mind is working better and without floods of R-rated stimuli. My apologies for any inconvenience.

Yours truly

Gaara's Mental Journal

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