I'm a loser baby,
There was pallid essence to it
Which I could almost certainly make out.
The face of something that was ultimately unreal
And the words lost between us.
On the ratty Agent Orange sofa, invested with mites
I find salvation in what he said but ultimately.
I knew that I couldn't believe a word
because despite the fact that I fall quite hard
and easily I can't get myself fooled
from the cotton softness that comes from fluffy bath towels.
I let myself be manipulated
like that variable in a murder case that was ultimately.
Decided not to be presented.
I stare and long and stare and long.
and I end up nowhere
but the occasional tune that the.
neck gets snapped in places
with contusions and lacerations.
across my skin that was most undoubtedly lost
within the time period of three point five hours.
but what ached the most wasn't the fact that it hurt.
It was the lack of pain and quickness.
I left the television on and he just tried to pick up the pieces
of the shattered screen that was left pink and green and blue and pigments.
It made me burst with joy.
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Creative Writing assignment: impressionistic writing.
So Why don't you kill me?
