I know when I'm lost, I'm twisted and comfortable, knees under my own weight and I've washed six times without realizing it. Keys in the door,it has only been eleven minutes, the cartoon of milk hits the table, muffled by papers beneath it.. maybe some girls number, maybe a mans... did he complain about his mother, or was it REALLY his boyish charm.. do I stand up and hurry to you, or hurry to the bed..saving time. or hold my breath, maybe you have lost interest and will just GO AWAY. maybe you lost interest, like you ignored the fallen change on the grocer floor. I always end up crashing on your floor..

I know you , I have your picture or a picture of someone like you on my bathroom wall, next to a letter I got from a man, an ugly, pinched face man.. a man who SWORE he loved me. things don't change and you aren't SO different, I think.. as I rinse the spit out of the sink, a little blood goes with it. and the fingernail marks on the tiles..yes, they are mine.

Now, the gun lay at the floor, the siren silenced in my skull, in the middle somewhere, I remember the warm rain and hold that thought, as you smear my lipstick with the inside of your thigh. And I begin to talk to myself, The little girl in the corner.. face down, pinstripe mattress turn off the TV but its got no sound..you argue. and the static is soothing, echoing..through the springs and what's left go the pillow stuffings. wasn't there coffee? there isn't a cup.. and no how-was-my-day..can I wait here while you are gone, out saving your world. or at least let me dress in private or let me wipe off... where you broke the skin.