you’re the nicotine high of perpetual grievances. so strong that it’s nearly blinding and leaves me unable to move, but so short lived that it’s not even memorable.
we always bump into each other at the worst of times. in hidden alleyways, out of lights reach, and do they try to reach. maybe it’s a coincidence. this is only the hundredth time this has happened. i swear it will be the last time i go to place one hundred and one, add it to the list.
the sensation of brick being scraped against skin is only ever tolerable when you’re around...now, isn’t that funny?
look me in the eyes and tell me i’m worth nothing to you.
no, no, say it like you mean it. you’re not looking hard enough.
forget it. you aren’t even trying. walking away from you wasn’t the best idea, but it’s not like i knew what was coming. a poor punch to the face like a slow collision with a lamp post. the cracked fire hydrant of a busted lip. what a shock.
don’t fool yourself, my teeth did more than your swing did. you weren’t even really trying that time either, were you?
why don't you do us both a favor and forget about me.
- f. e. celler