maybe because always escapes the why. you triple the insults but forget what youre like under the bare blurriness of the light explaining the crime.
you see. the fault was in the finding. the opening of the four gauge shotgun pump. that gets so mad that it makes my ribs jump and play the broken chest crunch.
fuck futures and fates and even the friendship that resides in the simple sexual distaste of a kiss mixed with your salty survival and my stupid stupid regrets.
my lips were chapped until i thought about putting them on yours and i waxed them four times an hour in hopes of wetting them with yours.
so the weather is nice and then i walk around in my car and think about where im not going tonight when im just looking for your body without the repugnance and defense mechanisms like a six inch action figure with its real punching and kicking action.
yes. these are silly girl feelings. and when you say sorry i say sorry to myself laying in the silence between you and me you keep talking and i just talk to myself a run-on mess that repeats the same thing that would sound just the same outloud.
so i sit and i stand and you say. this is uncomfortable. and i double my trouble by being a girl and listen to the constant drone of you making noise while i converse with myself alone. jesus jesus the heartbeat of the heat of the summer while you have got two. wrist and baby womb crazy. and i have got one. stuck in my mouth.