tomorrow I will be the same again, the same mouth, the same empty stomach, the same lonely hips.

I haven't been here for a while and I have missed you. I am writing elsewhere, mind you. I am writing about you, about the times apart, the times together. It has been so long till I last saw you. And words, of course, are dull. Again, thinking of you, I am leaning towards the right. My only consolation your skinny body. I will count to three. And then I will come to find you.

I write to YOU to you you asshole to YOU you do not know how to read or how to read the signs you do not know what happens inside my big fat plumping system inside my wardrobe full of clothes inside my corridor my fucking windowsill inside the whole of the hell of me I write to you you illiterate person however small i might be i still recognise the signs of love

my little pussy is always kinda thirsty. it does not like coke and all that shit it prefers healthy drinking multivitamin drinks and stuff or jasmin tea and whatever comes with it. From time to time a straw might be necessary, I wonder why the hell you haven't called for so long why you lie

this is the worst part of it to wait for you to finish wiping off your ass and come and kiss me. You seem to wipe off your ass quite softly in a slow pace your left leg extended. Your right arm does the whole job, the left slightly lifted is pressed against the door. Balance is important to you and symmetry. You always have to find the perfect position. No weird angles or all that shit. Just smoothness and leaning.

i think of you as in a hill in a hill with holes this is how you breath. You have your laptop in there your mouse and all in the hole of the hill I think of you. The mud is dark and the earth covers you and you do not want to come out, because then you will have to write to me and explain it all. That is your excuse. Your hole in the hill and I only wait.

in the dark of course in the dark you fucker you see nothing you see nothing but nothing you see nothing me crying because I do not I nothing you see how soft this whole thing might be how soft and steady. i have taken so much of it i suffocate and i am scared in case you go in case you and me no stay the same you say don't cry don't write cliches, but I love cliches and I cry.

you are turning around all night long and going nowhere you are tired and don't want to see me but I will make stuffed vegetables for you and little raki I will care and cry only when you do not see me I will whisper midnight songs and wear your clothes and hope that it will be ok. and i do not want any children, No more children for me, no more.

so sad and lonely without you this afternoon or evening you are going away and I have to stay and deal with myself I will deal with myself so hard that it will hurt until you come back and bandage my scars and help