(no subject)

[suckerforsummer]

"I'm going," I told him.
Figurative Red Dress, torn to shreds.
Late night calls and
"what
are
you
doing
now?"
Hopeful thoughts of blatant obscenity. Chemical evenings, coming home to speak with the proverbial
F R I E N D
Friend is all wrong. Basic definition:
"you aren't worth my time"
And now, time, even yours, stops.

Time out of time.
This black hole even Einstein could not explain. How do you figure this?
Is pain
pleasure ? And loneliness happiness?

Explain, elucidate. DEFINE. You said you wanted to go away with me. Voyage European. Italian villa, plus beach ice cream.
Two, three times a day
at least. You guess? More? I can't be sure of anything.
I want a fence along the cliff . My children can't fall off.

We'll we, no I, am just a kid. Liar. Self incrimination. My EXPERTISE. Your

favorite
game.
Figurative red dress, ripped to pieces.
And I'm going. No, I'm
kidding. I'm waiting. What? You're going? Lay on t h e pavement, outsidemyhouse.
"This beer's for you" and "I can't keep it." The offer was

surreal. But I forgive, everything. How can I forgive what you haven't done wrong, right? Right.

Red dress, No longer figurative. It was never. There. At All.