I have lost everything that made up myself.
Any chance of love I had is gone.
any breath of fresh air, ripped from my throat in a cloud of chloroform, rising from the pit of my stomach.
my heart beats like an old drum. like death.

I usually shower alone but 1 day I  was surprised when Sicilian mafiosi entered my shower. They were very nice. I was curious as to what they wanted. Vito, the under boss, brought Helene Curtis shampoo. He stayed for 8 minutes.

FOR loving ME
FOR BEING SO ABOVE ME
EVEN THROUGH YOUR INFERIORITY-
FOR DOING SO MUCH FOR ME
BUT ACTUALLY DOING SO LITTLE.
DON’T LOOK AT ME, BUT
PLEASE DON’T LOOK AWAY.

I FIND MYSELF TANGLED IN YOUR SATIN BEDSHEETS.
AS OFTEN AS I FIND MYSELF TANGLED IN WORDS AT YOUR THROAT.
I CAN'T STRESS IT ENOUGH.
I NO LONGER FEEL love. I FEEL ALL OF THE WEIGHT, THOUGH YOUR TOUCH MAKES THE LOAD OF CONDITION WEIGHTLESS.
THE LIFT OF THIS BURDEN IS MOMENTARY.
WE GRAVITATE, WE CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT.
I HATE YOU
FOR loving ME.