what you see: me, quiet and deadly still in a way that i never am staring into empty space or at a blank wall. maybe i'm counting cracks or cataloging creases. you see me zone outβ such an airhead, that George is i wonder what he's imagining
what i see: ivory skin and hair as orange as sunset, and she is as beautiful... on the outside; but on the inside, she is a black hole. she ****** me in and i thought she was the light at the end of the tunnel. i must have been a traveller stranded and thirsty in the desert crawling towards mirages. now i am helpless.
i am watching her line her legs with ink as she tells me to make sure that she doesn't line her legs with blood. meanwhile, i scratch deep at an itch that isn't there and call it catharsis. i am seeing white tiles and a translucent shower curtain and a sink and soaps and everything is normalβexcept the girl sitting in a bathtub naked without water and bare skin has never made me feel more ill.
what you hear: ambient sounds. my breathing, perhaps.
what i hear: she hums like a Disney villain brewing potions and calling it tea. she looks like a princess but her words are witch's curses and i'm hexed under her spell, hanging by a thread to every word she's ever said and somehow not noticing the noose she looped around my neck. darling, choke me 'til I can only breathe as well as your drowning lungs as you gasp into your oxygen mask