your monkey mouth spits wise, putrid- like delicious and suffocating, sugar-acid soaked cotton. drying me out and crumbling the stones. kicked the back of your chair. burned holes in it. anything to get you to shutthefuckup with the unrelenting rambling.  i would set fire to your ego --- if i didn't think the flames might fuel an unqualified hubris; nourishing it like flames would lick it's lips at dry rot drapes and discarded wicker patio furniture. your white teeth gnashing in passion over your own thoughts in the dark. your face shrouded in perspiration, agony, devotion, ecstasy and anger catches lights off flickering streetlamps careening down the backstreets of your self involved sincerity and the suburb we grow older in-- each home they built there uglier than the last and yet... tantamount to one another. a symmetrical cemetery. pursed, chapped lips and noxious smoke. i could die here. nodding and satisfied.
sliding sideways into a more intense disgust,  i catch your gaze in the rear view--- a moment of terror-laden, dark lager stare as if your eyes might know my predilection for pain. charming me back into your misery. passing it back and forth like a wet, sticky pipe- i could breathe you in all over again. blackening my lungs. scratching a line down my insides. rendered me flimsy and clouded again. when i crawl in next to you it's those slender spider leg fingers digging in. i love you. i hate you. all over again.