She used to be here. She used be just here. Let me bathe in that feeling. Not idle: raw, saturating, honest reflecting.
Bitter biting feelings wash over me. The tears of every pram a growth towards accident or dissolution. Unresolved- tragic spew. Speeding agony, pinned. Heart, heavy as shoulders and smile turn tragically down. A comedy, a joke played on me and my own. Ask about names, use your definitions.
“You’re alive and well?”
“Same thing” there’s space for complaints, but it’s all bundled together, sick weird feelings. The taste, organic fizzling vomit rises in a turgid swell.