Rolling off the futon
with a thud and a grudge
, quiet, quiet, I'm not waking your snores. Through the kitchen, bathroom door rickety, protesting, hopping off track. And I'm repulsed, hands gripping the sides of the sink, wanna retch
, wretched, amazing you, curled up dreaming in your zeros and ones, as my colors bang harder at the door of my conscience. And they stop.....for a moment. Seeing the red mark blossoming on my neck where you bit me, my chest naked, pale, areolas shake with every breath, look in the mirror for a scant second, flashing green packaged in splotchy crimson, freckles greyed, brows tight, knotted. Banging again. Cool water splashed in a mouth like a dessert, stomach churns, find balance, an asprin, a glass.
Thumping throught the kitchen this time, cabinets slamming, my heavy hip resting on your counter, look out to the fire escape. Swaggering into the other room with a purpose, you will wake this time.
Head dropped back, lips full, fallen open. Not twitching now. I don't have the heart. Ashen skin, creeping out from under a quilt, my quilt, my guilt. My guilt threading throught that bed like so many long black hairs. Drop of spit vibrating on your lip. Body feels fragile, shale-like, empty even after all the fuel I've sucked from your body. The night before took in more than we could handle, booze as water, and the poisons raise to my skin. Your hunger sated, poisons gone from your body as you tried to fuck them out. Into me. As it always was, as it will always be. Saving all the energies inside you with which you cannot relate, and pouring them, sinking them into me as if I had enough memory to hold them all. Knees buckle, body shifting silently to the carpet, dirty gray. You turn, shift, mew, reaching out an arm to my spot on the bed....and it's empty, barren, as I am crushing myself on your floor, wishing for a smoke, hoping against all hope that you won't wake now, my heart and anger apparent in my eyes. I have to harden, turn another cheek as this is a new day and you are never held accountable for your yesterdays. Tighten, harden, egg-like, unbreakable from top to bottom, but come from the side and you have breakfast. Fossilize now, becoming the quiet container of your past as its your juice, fuel, fire, flame gluing me together, deposits of thought and dream, our walking biography in my shell.
I pick myself up and edge back into bed, your arms have instinct, gripping me to you, and your breathing calms. My mind attempts one last recollection as to why I'm still here. Oh yeah, because you sleep when I'm here, and I remember that no matter what else you have done.