She dragged her body across the room
Away from the steamy pile in my studio
“why does your japartment smell like spoiled cheese and
Sadness?”
Her speech sloppy as her movement
“because you vomited on my ******* floor!”
Her head spinning, she lurched forward
“I didn’t do that – must been you.”
She slurred, staring at her mess, smelling the fumes.
Swinging her head round, smacking the wall
She burped.
Why help the helpless? It’s hell.
An hour of her refusing clothes
Forcing her to dress like a toddler in my clothes
“I’m a goddess! I’m a goddess!” she bellowed.
“Yeah, but even Athena wore clothes.”
When you ***** in a toilet, it
Goes in a second – cleaning’s a breeze!
When someone pukes on your floor, it smells like sadness
And cheese,
Interesting how I remember my toilet bowl clearn
That night, resting my head on icy porcealan
Alone, isolated from friends usually there when I’m “unwell” in a toilet stall
After ally, why help the helpless? It’s hell.
This is based off a true story where a friend vomited on my floor before we were even friends. We're actually best friends, now, but I straight up avoided her for a month after that. She expected me to boot her out on the street, but am I really the kind of person to throw a woman out on the street drunk late at night? She also expected me to be angry at the time. Sure, I was angry, but it wasn't my first rodeo so I understood.
