I wanna smash your head. I wanna lick your face. Cut through my skin and find the fault while I'm at it. You sit in the corner, I sit on the counter. Music is loud as fuck; we had agreed on that one thing. It stops the thoughts from getting loud. I like it fuzzy in my ears, but not in the head. Run my fingers through the red tinted blonde hair on your busted head. Let's go to the doctor,dear. God, I hate the doctor's. They're the worst, of course. Clownery. Clownery. Clownery. I hate myself for loving you. Let's break the plates, they're mismatched and make satisfying sounds when thrown at walls. Chipped paint, souveniers. You kiss me near the sink. Our clothes are soaked. "What about all the money you have?" Burn it, throw it in the ocean. Drown the coins in the goddamned ocean. I'm going back to being insane. The war took it all from me. All I'm left with is victory. I don't know how to live with it. I have anxities for breakfast and bury them deep inside. By noon, I have digested them without proofs of their existence. The paperwork continues on in a world that probably should've died. Who makes the rules anyway? This is a rambling piece but so is life. You ask me to let you sleep in my bed. I wake up with your arm around my stomach. (I love you.) I am gonna be late for work because of you. You don't wanna go anyway, just quit. (We drive in a rented car to the ocean and see a sunrise and you go to sleep afterwards.) Yes, let's run away. And then what? And then we go on living.
