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Morgan Jul 2016
I'm a deer in the headlights,
I'm pacing back and forth
I don't know whether to run
forward or step back
There is darkness where I came from
but I can't see ahead

I'm somewhere between
vibrant red and navy blue

My roommate is vomiting
in the bathroom.
I turn up the television,
and pretend not to hear her

I'm a deer in the headlights,
I can't see the face that sits
behind the steering wheel

I imagine she's soft and gentle,
she'll let me pass & I'll be safe

But what if she's sharp and angry,
she'll strike me down & I'll bleed out

My roommate convulses on
the cold tile floor,

There is sweat rolling off her
rib cage

I find her half conscious,
and I don't believe this is happening again

My back aches
but only in one place

I wonder if it's you,
griping me from behind,
trying desperately to pull me backward

Or maybe my back just aches,
and I think too much

I tried to make a friend again today,
and ended up naked & empty,
fumbling around his sheets,
trying to get out of my mind

I don't think I'm doing this right
cause I feel like a deer in the headlights,
and I miss my mother,
and I know she'd slap the cigarette
right out of my hand,
and then she'd kiss my forehead,
and I'd feel better

I'm tripping over gravel,
Pacing back and forth
The yellow light creates a straight line
And I keep following it to the same place

There's been a song stuck in
my head for three days
and 8 & a half hours,
I can't focus on anything else

I told a boy I hate
that I love him,
just because I like the
way it sounded as it rolled off my lips
And I knew I'd get high off the look in his eyes

Maybe that's my whole problem-
Start to finish,
Plain and simple,
I just wanna be liked
And I never have been

Can't tell if I'm useless
or too used-
Can I be both at the same time?

I'm a deer in the headlights,
trying to find my way back to my mother,
going blind from the colors

I'm a deer in the headlights...

Mom,
If you can hear me now,
I'm so sorry for who I am
Tell me I'm not this. The blue began to flood
inside a room once painted black. Tell me I don't
see this. The orb of morning peering its start right to
my eyelids that can't even close. Tell me I don't hear
this. Birds chirping for sunrise, playing lightly as my
lullaby. Tell me I'm dreaming. My leg still twitches,
seven in the morning, because I'm afraid I'll lose myself
before dawn. Shedding emotion in fast waves of flight,
tell me I didn't run through time, making stars out
of daylight. Orange in the sky, and not from shy
headlights in insomniac cars. Yellow, making its fellow
opening for my uncomforted sleep, not a nightlight like before,
no. Tell me I'm not this.
All feedback is welcome
1969 Hartford art school is magnet for exceedingly intelligent over-sensitive under-achievers alluring freaks congenital creeps and anyone who cannot cut it in straight world it is about loners dreamers stoners clowns cliques of posers competing to dress draw act most outrageous weird wonderful classrooms clash in diversity of needs some students get it right off while others require so much individual attention one girl constantly raises her hand calls for everything to be repeated explained creativity is treated as trouble and compliance to instruction rewarded most of faculty are of opinion kids are not capable of making original artwork teachers discourage students from dream of becoming well-known until they are older more experienced only practiced skilled artists are competent to create ‘real art’ defined by how much struggle or multiple meanings weave through the work Odysseus wants to make magic boxes without knowing or being informed of Joseph Cornell one teacher tells him you think you’re going to invent some new color the world has never seen? you’re just some rowdy brat from the midwest with a lot of crazy ideas and no evidence of authenticity another teacher warns you’re nothing more than a bricoleur! Odysseus questions what’s a bricoleur teacher informs a rogue handyman who haphazardly constructs from whatever is immediately available Odysseus questions what’s wrong with that? teacher answers it’s low-class folk junk  possessing no real intellectual value independently he reads Marshall McLuhan’s “The Medium Is The Message” and “The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci” he memorizes introductory remark of Leonardo’s “i must do like one who comes last to the fair and can find no other way of providing for himself than by taking all the things already seen by others and not taken by reason of their lesser value” Odysseus dreams of becoming accomplished important artist like Robert Rauschenberg Jasper Johns Andy Warhol he dreams of being in eye of hurricane New York art scene he works for university newspaper and is nicknamed crashkiss the newspaper editor is leader in student movement and folk singer who croons “45 caliber man, you’re so much more than our 22, but there’s so many more of us than you” Odysseus grows mustache wears flower printed pants vintage 1940’s leather jacket g.i. surplus clothes he makes many friends his gift for hooking up with girls is uncanny he is long haired drug-crazed hippie enjoying popularity previously unknown to him rock bands play at art openings everyone flirts dances gets ****** lots of activism on campus New York Times dubs university of Hartford “Berkeley of the east coast” holding up ******* in peace sign is subversive in 1969 symbol of rebellion youth solidarity gesture against war hawks rednecks corporate America acknowledgment of potential beyond materialistic self-righteous values of status quo sign of what could be in universe filled with incredible possibilities he moves in with  painting student one year advanced named Todd Whitman Todd has curly blond hair sturdy build wire rimmed glasses impish smile gemini superb draftsman amazing artist Todd emulates Francisco de Goya and Albrecht Durer Todd’s talent overshadows Odysseus’s Todd’s dad is accomplished professor at distinguished college in Massachusetts to celebrate Odysseus’s arrival Todd cooks all day preparing spaghetti dinner when Odysseus arrives home tripping on acid without appetite Todd is disappointed Odysseus runs down to corner store buys large bottle of wine returns to house Todd is eating spaghetti alone they get drunk together then pierce each other’s ears with needles ice wine cork pierced ears are outlaw style of bad *** bikers like Hell’s Angels Todd says you are a real original Odys and funny too Odysseus asks funny, how? Todd answers you are one crazy ******* drop acid whenever you want smoke **** then go to class this is fun tonight Odys getting drunk and piercing our ears Odysseus says yup i’m having a good time too Todd and Odysseus become best friends Odysseus turns Todd on to Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” and “Ariel” then they both read Ted Hughes “Crow” illustrated with Leonard Baskin prints Todd turns Odysseus on to German Expressionist painting art movement of garish colors emotionally violent imagery from 1905-1925 later infuriating Third ***** who deemed the work “degenerate” Odysseus dives into works of Max Beckmann Otto Dix Conrad Felixmulller Barthel Gilles George Grosz Erich Heckel Ernst Ludwig Kirchner Felix Nussbaum Karl *******Rottluff Carl Hofer August Macke Max Peckstein Elfriede Lohse-Wachtler Egon Shiele list goes on in 1969 most parents don’t have money to buy their children cars most kids living off campus either ride bikes or hitchhike to school then back home on weekends often without a penny in their pockets Odysseus and Todd randomly select a highway and hitch rides to Putney Vermont Brattleboro Boston Cape Cod New York City or D.C. in search of adventure there is always trouble to be found curious girls to assist in Georgetown Odysseus sleeps with skinny girl with webbed toes who believes he is Jesus he tries to dissuade her but she is convinced

Toby Mantis is visiting New York City artist at Hartford art school he looks like huskier handsomer version of Ringo Starr and women dig him he builds stretchers and stretches canvases for Warhol lives in huge loft in Soho on Broadway and Bleeker invites Odysseus to come down on weekends hang out Toby takes him to Max’s Kansas City Warhol’s Electric Circus they wander all night into morning there are printing companies longshoremen gays in Chelsea Italians in West Village hippies playing guitars protesting the war in Washington Square all kinds of hollering crazies passing out fliers pins in Union Square Toby is hard drinker Odysseus has trouble keeping up  he pukes his guts out number of times Odysseus is *** head not drinker he explores 42nd Street stumbles across strange exotic place named Peep Show World upstairs is large with many **** cubicles creepy dudes hanging around downstairs is astonishing there are many clusters of booths with live **** girls inside girls shout out hey boys come on now pick me come on boys there are hundreds of girls from all over the world in every conceivable size shape race he enters dark stall  puts fifty cents in coin box window screen lifts inside each cluster are 6 to 10 girls either parading or glued to a window for $1 he is allowed to caress kiss their ******* for $2 he is permitted to probe their ****** or *** for $10 girl reaches hand into darkened stall jerks him off tall slender British girl thrills him the most she says let me have another go at your dickey Odysseus spends all his money ******* 5 times departing he notices men from every walk of life passing through wall street stockbrokers executives rednecks mobsters frat boys tourists fat old bald guys smoking thick smelly cigars Toby Mantis has good-looking girlfriend named Lorraine with long brown hair Toby Lorraine and Odysseus sit around kitchen table Odysseus doodles with pencil on paper Toby spreads open Lorraine’s thighs exposing her ****** to Odysseus Lorraine blushes yet permits Toby to finger her Odysseus thinks she has the most beautiful ****** he has ever seen bulging pelvic bone brown distinctive bush symmetric lips Toby and Lorraine watch in amusement as Odysseus gazes intently Tony mischievously remarks you like looking at that ***** don’t you? Odysseus stares silently begins pencil drawing Lorraine’s ****** his eyes darting back and forth following day Lorraine seduces Odysseus while Toby is away walks out **** from shower she is few years older her body lean with high ******* she directs his hands mouth while she talks with someone on telephone it is strange yet quite exciting Odysseus is in awe of New York City every culture in the world intermingling democracy functioning in an uncontrollable managed breath millions of people in motion stories unraveling on every street 24 hour spectacle with no limits every conceivable variety of humanity ******* in same air Odysseus is bedazzled yet intimidated

Odysseus spends summer of 1970 at art colony in Cummington Massachusetts it is magical time extraordinary place many talented eccentric characters all kinds of happenings stage plays poetry readings community meals volleyball after dinner volleyball games are hilarious fun he lives alone in isolated studio amidst wild raspberries in woods shares toilet with field mouse no shower he reads Jerzy Kosinski’s “Painted Bird” then “Being There” then “Steps” attractive long haired girl named Pam visits community for weekend meets Odysseus they talk realize they were in first grade together at Harper amazing coincidence automatic ground for “we need to have *** because neither of us has seen each other since first grade” she inquires where do you sleep? Todd hitches up from Hartford to satisfy curiosity everyone sleeps around good-looking blue-eyed poet named Shannon Banks from South Boston tells Odysseus his ******* is not big enough for kind of ******* she wants but she will **** him off that’s fine with him 32 year old poet named Ellen Morrissey from Massachusetts reassures him ******* is fine Ellen is beginning to find her way out from suffocating marriage she has little daughter named Nina Ellen admires Odysseus’s free spirit sees both his possibilities and naïveté she realizes he has crippling family baggage he has no idea he is carrying thing about trauma is as it is occurring victim shrugs laughs to repel shock yet years later pain horror sink in turned-on with new ideas he returns to Hartford art school classes are fun yet confusing he strives to be best drawer most innovative competition sidetracks him Odysseus uses power drill to carve pumpkin on Halloween teachers warn him to stick to fundamentals too much creativity is suspect Todd and he are invited to holiday party Odysseus shows up with Ellen Morrissey driving in her father’s station wagon 2 exceptionally pretty girls flirt with him he is live wire they sneak upstairs he fingers both at same time while they laugh to each other one of the girls Laura invites him outside to do more he follows they walk through falling snow until they find hidden area near some trees Laura lies down lifts her skirt she spreads her legs dense ***** mound he is about to explore her there when Laura looks up sees figure with flashlight following their tracks in snow she warns it’s Bill my husband run for your life! Odysseus runs around long way back inside party grabs a beer pretending he has been there next to Ellen all night few minutes later he sees Laura and Bill return through front door Bill has dark mustache angry eyes Odysseus tells Ellen it is late maybe they should leave soon suddenly Bill walks up to him with beer in hand cracks bottle over his head glass and beer splatter Odysseus jumps up runs out to station wagon Ellen hurriedly follows snow coming down hard car is wedged among many guest vehicles he starts engine locks doors maneuvers vehicle back and forth trying to inch way out of spot Bill appears from party walks to his van disappears from out of darkness swirling snow Bill comes at them wielding large crowbar smashes car’s headlights taillights side mirrors windshield covered in broken glass Ellen ducks on floor beneath glove compartment sobs cries he’s going to **** us! we’re going to die! Odysseus steers station wagon free floors gas pedal drives on back country roads through furious snowstorm in dark of night no lights Odysseus contorts crouches forward in order to see through hole in shattered windshield Ellen sees headlights behind them coming up fast it is Bill in van Bill banging their bumper follows them all the way back to Hartford to Odysseus’s place they run inside call police Bill sits parked van outside across street as police arrive half hour later Bill pulls away next day Odysseus and Ellen drive to Boston to explain to Ellen’s dad what has happened to his station wagon Odysseus stays with Ellen in Brookline for several nights another holiday party she wants to take him along to meet her friends her social circles are older he thinks to challenge their values be outrageous paints face Ellen is horrified cries you can’t possibly do this to me these are my close friends what will they think? he defiantly answers my face is a mask who cares what i look like? man woman creature what does it matter? if your friends really want to know me they’ll need to look beyond the make-up tonight i am your sluttish girlfriend! sometimes Odysseus can be a thoughtless fool

Laura Rousseau Shane files for divorce from Bill she is exceptionally lovely models at art school she is of French descent her figure possessing exotic traits she stands like ballerina with thick pointed ******* copious ***** hair Odysseus is infatuated she frequently dances pursues him Laura says i had the opportunity to meet Bob Dylan once amazed Odysseus questions what did you do? she replies what could i possibly have in common with Bob Dylan? Laura teases Odysseus about being a preppy then lustfully gropes him grabs holds his ***** they devote many hours to ****** intimacy during ******* she routinely reaches her hand from under her buns grasps his testicles squeezing as he pumps he likes that Laura is quite eccentric fetishes over Odysseus she even thrills to pick zits on his back he is not sure if it is truly a desire of hers proof of earthiness or simply expression of mothering Laura has two daughters by Bill Odysseus is in over his head Laura tells Odysseus myth of Medea smitten with love for Jason Jason needs Medea’s help to find Golden Fleece Medea agrees with promise of marriage murders her brother arranges ****** of king who has deprived Jason his inheritance couple is forced into exile Medea bears Jason 2 sons then Jason falls in love with King Creon’s daughter deserts Medea is furious she makes shawl for King Creon’s daughter to wear at her wedding to Jason  shawl turns to flames killing bride Medea murders her own sons by Jason Odysseus goes along with story for a while but Laura wants husband Odysseus is merely scruffy boy with roving eyes Laura becomes galled by Odysseus leaves him for one of his roommates whom she marries then several years later divorces there is scene when Laura tells Odysseus she is dropping him for his roommate he is standing in living room of her house space is painted deep renaissance burgundy there are framed photographs on walls in one photo he is hugging Laura and her daughters under big oak tree in room Laura’s friend Bettina other girl he fingered first night he met Laura at party is watching with arms crossed he drops to floor curls body sobs i miss you so much Laura turns to Bettina remarks look at him men are such big babies he’s pitiful Bettina nods

following summer he works installing displays at G. Fox Department Store besides one woman gay men staff display department for as long as he can remember homosexuals have always been attracted to him this misconception is probably how he got job his tenor voice suggesting not entirely mature man instead more like tentative young boy this ambiguous manifestation sometimes also evidences gestures thoroughly misleading after sidestepping several ****** advances one of his co-workers bewilderingly remarks you really are straight manager staff are fussy chirpy catty group consequently certain he is not gay they discriminate against him stick him with break down clean up slop jobs at outdoor weekend rock concert in Constitution Plaza he meets 2 younger blond girls who consent to go back to his place mess around both girls are quite dazzling yet one is somewhat physically undeveloped they undress and model for Odysseus radio plays Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly With His Song” both girls move to rhythm sing along he thinks to orchestrate direct decides instead to let them lead lies on bed while curvaceous girl rides his ******* slender girl sits on his face they switch all 3 alternate giggle laughter each girl reaches ****** on his stiffness later both assist with hands mouths his ****** is so intense it leaves him paralyzed for a moment

in fall he is cast as Claudius in production of Hamlet Odysseus rehearses diligently on nights o
Janessa Sep 2016
It starts with a stare
We're both well aware
You're pulling me closer
Pulling me in

Eyes locked eager to sink in my teeth for the taste of your sin
The nights blaze from heat of exchanges
Times fades so drive me away

Dim the headlights the streets are open
Once dark skies burst in orange and blue
Sit still on your passenger side and watch you drive me to fall in love

We fall in love

And when you speak it leaves me weak
In the days and days I'm lost and I am craving more
Yes you can touch me easy

The night blaze from heat of exchanges
Time fades so drive me away

Dim the headlights the streets are open
Once dark skies burst in orange and blue
Sit still on your passenger side and watch you drive me to fall in love

And if I lost you I've lost every piece of me inside you
With every taste of me that you take I break just

A little bit more
A little bit more
A little bit more
A little bit more
A little bit more

The night blaze from heats exchanges
Time fades so drive me away

Dim the headlights the streets are open
Once dark skies burst in orange and blue
Sit still on your passenger side
And watch you drive

Dim the headlights
We fall in love
resource:
video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdLbmu_vugA
egghead  Mar 2018
Headlights
egghead Mar 2018
There were nights I spent,
with my hands pressed against a cold window
waiting.
For headlights that said you were home.
For the stomping of your heavy boots,
for the thud of a closing door,
for the swish of your jacket,
And your footsteps down the stairs.

There were nights I spent at that window,
hours and hours that wouldn’t end.

Today I am sitting at a different window
But I still don’t see your headlights.
It’s been seven or eight years by now
-you lose track of those numbers somewhere after three.

I am 17 today.
I was 17 yesterday too.
I will be 17 tomorrow.

I’m trying to use that as my constant
because I cannot use you.

You are the sky in a bright city.
Everyone looks up to you,
but they never find any stars.

I never needed any stars from you,
I never needed to look up and find you,
shielding me from above.
I never needed that.

I just needed your headlights,
just my window and your headlights,
the stomping boots and the door,
the swish and your footsteps.

I just needed… no
I just wanted
your headlights.
Chris Thomas  Oct 2016
Headlights
Chris Thomas Oct 2016
Boots caked with mud
A broken key in the keyhole
And headlights that peer through cracked curtains

Talons dripping with blood
A heart stripped from its cavity
And headlights that burn through the blindness

Shirts stained with sweat
A souvenir lost by the side of the road
And headlights that cut through the devil's breath

Stars blanketing southern skies
A falling remnant of yesteryears
And headlights that have died from the overdose
Celeste Libert Mar 2014
I was fine till you came along.
I was fine making my way through this dark, scary, beautiful, huge forest. My brown skin made it easy for me to move around in the darkness without drawing attention to myself. I knew my way around. I knew what I was after, I knew what needed to be done.
I always avoided the road. I've seen others venture onto that road and they have all gotten hurt. Family members, friends, strangers. They all took different routes, but always ended up at the same destination.
Sometimes I'd be at the verge of the road, observing, wondering if I should make the step onto the black pit with the single dotted white line, but they were all the same. Nothing captured my attention, nothing made me brave enough to want to take that step, then you came along.
You were different. Your first impression, although you didn't know, left me in awe. The way you moved so gracefully and carefully. The way you slowed down to practically a crawl along the road like if you knew the dangers that could be done when you move too quickly.
I noticed you once, twice, then the times became countless, but every time I saw you I found one new thing I liked. Each night I'd wait for you, faithfully. One night I waited at the side of the road for you but you never came. Maybe that was a sign.
After weeks of waiting I eventually gave up. The road slowly became lonely to the point of desertion.
The night I decided to cross the road with hopes of reaching safely to the other side was the night you returned.
There I was, in the middle of the road and you came faster than before with your headlights brighter than ever.
I froze. I couldn't move. I was a deer in your headlights, your love shining on me.
The warmth of your light, your love, was comfortable in the midst of the brisk cold night. The brightest light I have ever seen venturing on this road, and I was captivated by it, by you.
Then your light started to fade, and the darkness got darker till there was no more light. Finally, I could move again, no more light blinding my way, but now I feel helpless, because within those few moments together, your light brightened up my life making me notice the beauty hidden within the darkness.
As I walked along the path that I've started and you continue yours, I only hope that maybe one night, when I'm ready to venture onto the road again I'd be the deer in your headlights.
Aditi  Jun 2015
Headlights
Aditi Jun 2015
Maybe my kisses
Were too soft to be felt
Or not hard enough for you to memorize them,
Maybe that is why I have seen you
Looking down that alley,
But lemme tell you,
You are looking for love
At all the wrong places.

Maybe the words I said
Were not enough
But you forgot my love is composed
Of a million feelings I can't name
Now all of them have reshaped
To beg you,
Please don't go chasing those two headlights

Maybe I should not have closed the door,
Right at your face
And still stood there
With my hand on the door ****,
But I guess I knew
I won't get too far
Without letting you know,
Love almost never lives
Where you lost it

So please before I am lost,
In the arms of someone
Who is mesmerized by starlight
I would like you to know,
When the headlights move away too fast
For you to follow
When you lay defeated and in the cold,
Remember these words of mine
That asked you not to go chasing those headlights.
They shine brilliantly
But they are just light,
Gone away in the blink of an eye.
"With you, it is only you,
without you, it is the same old equation
with you, there is no one else
without you, I'm caught up in those two lights"

his message a year back.
this is my reply.
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like recycling scar tissue you refuse to show
Like holding the words to a cookbook containing the recipe for disaster
Like the blood of an open wound placed by the whip of an unruly master
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like when you finally learn the meaning of you reap what you sow
Like a magnificent sand castle washed away by the sea
All the sand becomes one and denies the right to be free
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like the sting from the phrase I told you so
Like a deer caught in headlights frozen dead in it's tracks
Like gazing the stars if we could just climb the smoke stacks
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like excluding truth from what you think you know
Like playing life in a game of poker, and the *** is everything but cheap
Karma has the high hand, face up, read'em and weep
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like running through red lights because all you want is to go
Like a jack of all trades who can't fix his own heart
Like the tortoise that took off before the race even start
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like a hundred oars and no arms to row
Jason Cirkovic  Nov 2014
Klutz
Jason Cirkovic Nov 2014
Is there tear gas in this room?
Because I can't stop crying
The gas crawls down my esophagus
And crushes my wounded heart.

“God this hurts”

I keep typing,
Praying to computer screen
That I'll forget the smell of your hair
I type till my fingers bleed
So I can forget what your touch feels like
How our lips fit perfectly together.

“God I hate myself”

The only phrase I think of
When I'm pleading for things to back to normal
Back to the days
Where you didn't want to to crack open my skull
And see all of the ugly things
That drift around my cranium

“Baby please I'm sorry. I’m a mess,
A klutz, who waltzes around with stupidity
Baby I get this feeling in my head
When you are not around
I want to keep writing you these love letters
By sliding them under your doors called your eyelids”
But I can’t

I sit alone in the bus called life
Looking across my seat
I see you, my love
Holding onto the bar
Your pretty Blue headlights
That make me drawn to you
Your pretty Blue headlights
Covered with the rain I caused
I'm a rain man,
you see, when people get close to me
I get scared
And force the skies rain to tears with pain.


The only thing that floats in my mind
Is that I hope the man of you life
Buys you flowers
Sunflowers especially
And shows up to your work unexpectedly.
I hope you can travel to Paris
and keep a long list of all of the countries
you've cuddled in.
With him.
I hope you he can handle seeing the stars
From your eyes every time you guys cuddle
Under the moon light.
I hope he can teach you how to slow dance
And I hope that he can teach me
On how to be a better man.
Anna Patricia Aug 2014
Suddenly, I feel myself fighting for air.
Another thing I have to fight for and it doesn't seem fair.
We've been fighting for hours.
I just need a break.
I need you to leave.
You can do better.
You can live better.
You can be better.
Without me.

Fighting for hours and a simple misunderstanding pushes me over the edge,
And I can feel myself falling, struggling for air.
I can feel hands on me.
Helping me up.
Pulling me onto my feet.
But I'm blind to you.
I run to the street, needing to get away from you.

Suddenly, I'm staring into the headlights.
Countless headlights.
I know they're coming closer,
And I don't care.

This isn't the first time I didn't care.
It isn't the second time,
Or the third.
I guess it makes twelve now.
Or thirteen.
I don't even remember.

Although I can't see you, I feel those hands on me.
Those once strong hands,
Made tired and weak from trying to catch me.
I pull harder and harder.
I want to see the beautiful light.
I want to walk towards the light.

Again, I'm falling, falling harder than ever.
I feel my head fall into your palm,
And I know you let my head crush your hand on the cement of the old sidewalk.

And I know you'll always let me crush your hands.
And I know that you'll never let me look into the headlights.
But I would rather crush my body than crush your hands.
Yes, this is very roughly written, but this is more of a story than a poem.
This happened last night. I don't know what to do.

— The End —