I don’t know what to do when I am holding your hand. I can feel the horror creeping over me. A disaster causes damage, and it is dangerous. When will you recognize the blank expression on my face. Speak up louder, I can barely hear the vulgarity. Linger, linger lovely lady look lonely no more. Thoughts, mere words begging to exit my mouth. Filthy foul-finished with the slip of my tongue.
I want it all-but I get none of you-because I simply can not, will not, stack up to him. Curse the very day my dilated pupils caught your glare. I would rather succumb to my old friend teener than try to win you over.
Seriously loaded up-cant think straight anymore.
Tap-tap on my door, but you aren’t real. I open my door politely nonetheless, and see you have brought a full size mirror. What is this, what are you doing here, at my door!
Look she, you, say to I who is me. Long streaky and ratty and greasy locks of my own hair staring at me. Colorless, well, blood-shot veins scattered over the width of my two dear eyeballs glistening no more. My bottom half is naked to my liking, I ask if she is willing-I am able. There is no laughing only the sound of silence piercing through me as I recognize the image is starting to creep me out. My knees start to tremble-like and helplessly I fall to the floor. To my dismay, I have started to piss. My lowest has arrived. Tears mixed with piss, with spit, with the dust of the ground. This is life-the pinnacle of defeat.
I faintly hear her. She is with me-at my lowest. Lowest. There are others now. Detox, detox the word I desperately despise.
Her hand is not there-but maybe after.