leave them to the shrink

A horribly intoxicating distance in the personwide gulfs suddenly between you, like he got sucked backwards in a timeless vortex into which you cannot follow. Like one moment you’re sweet coconutcandy and the next you’re days old cauliflower, shriveling and yellowed by that vacant look; where just then your body was cream-glazed, gooey sticky and warm, inviting, it is now repellent; where his hands, once feverishly intent on giving, now rest smugly in his pockets pointing away from you, his chest pulled back, his body vehemently sidestepping you, his breath avoiding you, his toes turned out. And you say ....  hey, remember me? the fabulous bitch you just  f&^%?

This distance, he says, I want to put it between us right now; I care less to think about our link. The invisible dotted line that connects us is a hindrance to my state and I want to put those things in the way, to cloud your line of sight and hearing— I don’t even want to think about your rants of fabulosity living amidst the city slums and psychoanalytic architecture that now is faded—I just want them there between us, widening the space from when I first laid compassion on you to when I couldn’t. I was happy to put my spurts of white jism kindness in you just then, but now it’s different: my dick retreats, my arms retract, my all and everything to be consciously away from you, to whiteout even the slightest trace of a memory of your overglorified-hellhole.

Listen, I’m not the angelic kind, but if you don’t leave a tip of your anti-depressants on the nightstand, at least endeavour to be kind as you exit.





"Walk on a trail of loving kindness
Walk on a path of compassion
And all else around you will be beautiful."
Every Blessing