i felt sick. the sheets called me home much earlier then usual. mostly i just needed to lack of light.

the floor is vibrating dully. apparently i am not alone in the universe. it gets louder. the charming trend-fuck below me is listening to something and is in the sharing mood.

i look outside and i don’t see his girlfriend’s car. i’d rather have the bass than the muffled sounds of coupling. stumbling i realize i’ll need more clothes to go talk to him to ask him to turn it down.

fingers crossed. will he turn it down?

many different scenes play in my head. making things awkward for future interactions.

instead i suddenly feel fat.

stomping on the floor loudly my head drives an ice pick deeper.

the bass ebbs down to a softer level and to match the flow i recede back into bed.

——————

my phone has been off for days. i get messages and calls — even the ones i want to talk to, my own personal trappings and self-imposed failings cause me to pretend they’re not really there — and i no longer exist.

—————-

we speak only in code here
we’ve stopped talking long ago.
this is all just muscle memory.
we’re hidden inside,
long forgotten the cypher.