The car will edge past the truck maybe and maybe we'll survive this message playing on repeat, apologies like daft lilies and then you go ahead and tell me that you've never learnt from your mistakes, or my mistakes. That mistakes are only bad unless you change the order of analogy. This experiment has been contaminated. Now a fresh batch. Trust me, there's a point to this. I'm counting back from a hundred and two and you've got me standing in the middle of the highway, blindfolded; this is what loving you felt like, you said. But I think it was more dramatic in my head. Nuclear fission and the seige of Dresden dressed up playing Adagio in D minor; I'm dust. I'm dust. I've become ash and misery and I'm trying to stay inside you but you've been coughing a lot, and who's to say you were holding your breath for something exciting, I just know for a fact that at the end of this beep, you'll know what to do and yet you're not going to leave another message.
"Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us." Richard Siken, Scheherazade