This bathroom buzzes with the sound of a fan whirring. It's blades loom and spin with a constant rhythm. The dim, ultraviolet light on the ceiling, Bleaches everything out into shades of cream and khaki.
I lay in a calm and murky pool enclosed in cold white walls. Steam rises from its surface and fogs the room. The water condensates in mirroring beads on the walls, Making the tiny bathroom seem colorless and infinite.
I want to go home to my own aqua green bathtub, Walls crawling with tiny square tiles of burnt umber and burgundy. Where my silent meditation in the bath, Is interrupted by your call on the telephone.
I think about calling you But I know it would only disappoint “Hey, what’s up—your friends not home? Why are you calling me on the phone?” I’d lie and say I just had time to waste Went from my safest place to saving face And it’s sad Sad I no longer know you like that
Life sways in gasps a breath struggles over sagging phone waves. The words I send trip off the line stretching two ends swinging high above the valley. I speak floating in clouds the voice may reach you over quivering cable wait, let me die, 'Don't disconnect.'
'Don't disconnect' - last words on an Italian youth to his beloved from his hospital bed using a doctor's phone
You listen to me But you don't hear me at all I'm not so sure you heard My screams and my bawls You left me to sit here, Watch me crumble and fall Now I'm positive You don't care at all Because you never pick Up the phone when I call Now I'll sit here alone And talk to these Paper thin walls
Now I'll sit here alone and talk to these paper thin walls
It was not my first time drunk, not even close but it was the first time that the floor span as a child's spinning top and faces swam in my too-dark-too-bright-toomuch vision. It was the first time I lost my footing and my back crashed into the wall sliding down until my knees hit my heaving chest and my palms pressed white against kitchen tile. It was my first time crying into the shoulder of a boy I don't know, ripping my apple-bruised heart out of my retching throat and pushing it into his ***** numbed hands.
(after that my memories become manufactured by the later retellings of others)
something about the roof shingles being cold against my back but the stars being warmer than my smile ever was. Something about a phone call to a girl I once loved apologising over and overandover for falling for another. Something about a text at 1am that had my cheeks blushing and my stomach clenching convulsively around Gin and Guilt.
(something more a little something more to drink)
Later, the boy who clumsily cradled my heart and my head in his lap, will tell me that I smiled at him through tingling teeth and told him that I would rather die than wake up in the morning.
- an age old rule, never fall in love on an empty stomach