(no subject)
I stood looking down at the bowl.
The shrimp were frantically scurrying around, weaving in and out of the scallops. I helped them along some more, and in return they showed me their bellies, begging me to give their neighbors a new color.
"Poor scallops."
I prodded some more to keep them from sticking to the bottom.
Before this I had retired to my room. The walls are thin and I could hear them speaking about his condition. But all I could think about was floating pecans and the thick icing that waited for me in the middle of a battleground of words. I waited.
"All they care about is getting a fucking cut."
Their voices muffled as reason tried to take over.
In the midst of legalities and pain I realized the sickness that consumed us. I worried. His voice rose and he said something to me and I forgot about worrying; instead I spewed out venom, recoiling post lacerations. A week, maybe, of forgetting, followed by a day of worry.
How hard it is to feel empathetic, little scallops.
How lonely you must be.
The shrimp were frantically scurrying around, weaving in and out of the scallops. I helped them along some more, and in return they showed me their bellies, begging me to give their neighbors a new color.
"Poor scallops."
I prodded some more to keep them from sticking to the bottom.
Before this I had retired to my room. The walls are thin and I could hear them speaking about his condition. But all I could think about was floating pecans and the thick icing that waited for me in the middle of a battleground of words. I waited.
"All they care about is getting a fucking cut."
Their voices muffled as reason tried to take over.
In the midst of legalities and pain I realized the sickness that consumed us. I worried. His voice rose and he said something to me and I forgot about worrying; instead I spewed out venom, recoiling post lacerations. A week, maybe, of forgetting, followed by a day of worry.
How hard it is to feel empathetic, little scallops.
How lonely you must be.