it has been three days, and i am grasping at empty straws,
with holes that are microscopic, and i cannot
drink
anything.

it has been three days, and today i saw a motorcycle,
and resisted the urge to swerve into it,
so finally i could stop the buzz buzzbuzzing
in my no sense
brain.

it has been three days, and you are ignoring me,
and i can imagine last night you spent it between the legs
of some petit blond girl who is in love with you,
but you are in love with lust,
and i imagine her nights are pillow filled,
and moony-eyed.

it has been three days, and you still have my *******
jacket. but i am scared to step into your room,
you will speak with marbles and i will crawl, trying
to gobble them. you will crash, breaking my ribs and my
pride.
your fingertips will scar.
(i really like that jacket)

it has been three days.