The woman poured herself another glass of wine,
Like another night alone.
The house was empty,
And the humming of the dishwasher bounced off the walls.
She sat by the window and pulled the black heels off her feet.
This was beginning to get old.
People outside paced in pairs.
Her house was dark.
The only light came from the kitchen,
glowing out to the adjacent ro0m.
She sipped at her wine, and rested the glass on her knee.
With an exasperated sigh,
She threw the wine glass against the opposite wall.
The glass flew, sparkling in the dim light
And merlot ran down the white wall.
She dusted off her hands, and undressed silently.
In the bathroom, she started water for a shower.
In silence, once again, she stood under the rush of water.
An hour's time went by, and the water was shut off.
Without bothering to dry herself, she stepped out,
And fell into bed.

Dropped all of those pieces of paper full of life and crumpled them simply so hastily, clasped in to my lifeless, icy hands.
The noise screeching and screaming out to be saved, to be helped but no it’s already gone
like the rotten fruit that was only half devoured a week before, yet dying a more long and profound death.

All oxygen ****** out its soulless core with nobody to witness but it’s dying self.
It lays alone so alone in the dark, darkness created by a universe or human race that does not care for the apple, for the pineapple, for the grape now gone.

Nobody cares.

Vorocious, piggish and gluttonous life. I hate thee.

I hate thee I hate thee I hate thee, just like me.