I hate being without you
and hate the prospect of seeing you
in case the event of us meeting again
doesn’t quell my hate
Wear my sweater, wear myself
twine your veins under my skin
we’d be perfect, I think
sipping my cups of coffee
comfortable alone.

A girl squirts Reddi-whip from a bottle into her boyfriend’s mouth. I briefly consider asking for some and skipping away.

“No, that’s not the person I am today.” But it could be.

I joy in the person I am, the person I would be around others right now. I’m one of the most delightful creatures in existence, and **** if others don’t know that.

Work feels like an improvement. Struggle the next great horizon.

My friend is singing in the shower. Small music notes waft out the door.

Faces of sharp glass
acrylic eyes, mercury noses
Showdolls of the falsest kind
Leave my homeland and destroy me more.

My love affair with language is ending.
===
How odd that the lonely are the hardest to spend time with.
===
Summer! Summer is here!
The one I love is leaving
It is a good thing
My thoughts can at last be free.

If you leave who will prove that my cry existed?
Tell me what was I like before I existed.

Once by my ear, having passed through my brain
I can barely remember your sigh existed.

She tried to replace cake with another’s bread
although we all knew no supply existed.

I reached my goal anonymously
They had no knowledge my try existed.

Bursting with implosions and marble-seamed spikes
you, Annie, were thus, before “goodbye” existed.

Just because you’re feeling sick of it,
does not mean that I am sick of it.

Are we not quite good at faking?
We ought to record a flick of it.

Make sure you show it to Mom;
you know that she’ll get a kick of it.

…And Babel’s tower collapses;
It’s lucky we still have a brick of it.

The present is almost invisible
whilst one is in stood in the thick of it.

F*, how are you still so pretty?
I don’t understand the trick of it.

And hours of effort are lost now;
all that it took was one click of it.

Doorways are metaphorical, she said,
as she made short work with a pick of it.

Just because I am now sick of it
does not mean you must be sick of it.

Once more, I must write about you,
as all of my thoughts are about you.

You said we’d be late, and we were!
I never had reason to doubt you.

These false-framed friends of the system
theatric, purport to flout you.

Fingers in everyone’s purses
ensure none shall actually rout you.

Without trying, I collect mythos.
None have the power to doubt you.

…(Your) wrist was chill to my touch,
as the void won battles throughout you.

Annie, why bother with others
knowing none shall write about you?