this won't just go away because you have conveniently removed yourself from it,
forgot how your tongue formed the words
the echoes are marching bands down a long, long street
and my ears keep ringing

you are lucky to sleep so soundly
while i toss and turn until i am pulled toward the beacon of day
i am a slave to time and pain against your simple animal rhythms
eat sleep drink drink eat sleep
and sometimes bleed

(but the way you bleed, and the way i bleed,
are very different things.)

maybe you're right
we don't have anything in common
i am a ball of yarn unraveling in your hands
and you like to play with the string