Woke up feeling much like a hangover this morning though I haven't had a drop to drink in hours. Fed my vanity in the mirror much the same as any other day. Wet my face, try to wash the cobwebs clear. How many spiders did I eat tonight? Tossed the fish a few nibbles, pawed at the pussy who bitches at my feet. Check the answering machine; only the sound of a train whistle blowing past. Flip on the stereo, tune it to random. Sit in my chair. The pale puke colored chair you loved to hate. Pick at my toes, scratch my ass only then to think of you. Flash of dream
My clever contortionist who smolders in my dreams. My cunt suddenly swollen with want. My fingers find my clit as I recall your reckless abandon in a scummy tavern's toilet. "Fuck you (here comes my cock) oh fuck, fuck me." What was that dear? Wake with a sweaty brow and sticky fingers. Stroke me in my dreams. You do so well there.
Phone rings, I'm suddenly ill, your voice crisp and clean through the digital contraption. This is a trap. You drone on and I loose a fresh spray of "I miss You" all over myself. Stalk to the bathroom, remember to use the antibacterial soap you so forced down my throat. Toss my soiled shorts into the growing pile of laundry you'd hate.
The fridge yields a beer and a tomato from your garden. Salt is good with my breakfast. Flip on the computer, there's a thesis to be done. You fade into my background, subtle presence, savage back lash. I'd pay a fortune to rid myself of the ghost of you that climbs these pasted walls. Play back your message as clip my nails. Beer first, talk later. It's all the same anyhow. I love you/hate you/want you/fuck you.
