I haven't written in a while, but today i find my insides anxious and agitated, banging on powder blue walls.
Each dawn I rise and wonder how much lower we've sunk into the ooze.
Denying the humanity in each other, even when you sit close enough to count your freckles in my inky pupils.
I drink rye, lip to bottle, and slip it a little tongue, as though the warm brown ***** will blanket me in calm and rock my heart to sleep.  I long for the cavernous burn of a cigarette, exquisitely gross.
The heat is getting to me now and I sit upright, my back speckled with rug detritus from an exasperated, sticky summer sweat.
I yearn for moments decades old, barely a feeling, just an itch in the back of my skull.
...Maybe if I dive into your life I can make more sense of mine, and view our reflection from underneath the waves.
Go grab my noseplugs.