"love is a battlefield"
I spent last night sweating out a fever on Jeremiah's couch.
Watching the fourth Harry Potter.
Head aching.
Throat aching.
Sweat soaking through the couch, into the carpet, and outside, mixing with the slush, the powder, the ice.
I got up around noon, and walked over to Hard Times.
I went to sit down next to what I thought was a friend.
She turned into a stranger.
She seemed welcoming, and to be honest, she was at my favourite table.
"Your art is almost as shitty as mine," I said. She asked to see it.
So we sat there doodling for a few hours, making average conversation.
She drew her number on one of her pictures and gave it to me.
Nobody told her that I hunt alone.
Watching the fourth Harry Potter.
Head aching.
Throat aching.
Sweat soaking through the couch, into the carpet, and outside, mixing with the slush, the powder, the ice.
I got up around noon, and walked over to Hard Times.
I went to sit down next to what I thought was a friend.
She turned into a stranger.
She seemed welcoming, and to be honest, she was at my favourite table.
"Your art is almost as shitty as mine," I said. She asked to see it.
So we sat there doodling for a few hours, making average conversation.
She drew her number on one of her pictures and gave it to me.
Nobody told her that I hunt alone.