gap year

puke up blood and fever pills, stained pink. anything to keep your hands in your pockets. you feel like a corpse on two legs.

there is so much to do in this world -- so much to see; so much to consume, consume, consume. and what are you going to do with it?

hungry, hungry caterpillar, don't fool yourself. you will rot in bed. and i will pretend we're all something different. all something that isn't a simple shiver pulse and bright, open eyes staring direct into the burning sun.

"my head hurts," sniffled and--

"i know baby, i'm sorry. you just need to wait for the medicine to work."

and my mouth tastes like battery acid.