you were soft wet and warm on the back of my neck and i didn't move a muscle. for fear of what i don't know, could not tell you. you played the same game she did
darling but this time i won. you with all your face first confidence somehow ended
down on the ground and by the time i'd realized white sheets signaled your
surrender not mine it was too late to retract my fingers and when i kissed you it was to silence you, silence your sighs, your moans, your accusations and your
advances. if your cries were false (oh familiar wolf turned sheep) it does not matter i
did not answer you. i have stopped answering anything. everything but myself but

tap tap tap it's so hard to ignore the ever-present. you'll excuse my self pity; imagine
a finger padding its solid print onto your temple, a beat like that begs acknowledgement which i find myself incapable of denying. there are so many "m"s
and just that one "l". is it any wonder you come scraping in front of nostalgia nowadays no not really no wonder at all. you are solidly on the ground. in fact, you are solidly at her house. for all i know (otherwise, otherknowledge, other-for-all-i-know), you're ******** her. it's probably best if you are since it would put you in a better mood.