i am such a piece of shit, and that's how i ended up slumped down against this wood backed chair. the small of my back is holding all my weight; my ass hanging off the end of the curves meant for your posterior. my shirt's a wrinkled horror, mostly at the collar where i was chokehandled around the room. i couldn't give less of a fuck. i don't listen anymore, not to anyone really. in this go around, i just tried to watch what he was watching which was me just watching him. i tried to see him as he saw himself in the mirror this morning. i thought about how he would tell his friends about this tomorrow, and that's really the only time i ever felt anything about this.
i'd never been punched before.
it's quieter than i thought it could be.
it has the same effect of a loud noise, though. all the senses kind of blindshot out.
as if he was some friend of mine, i almost said to him, "you got me all deaf, mate," on his way out the room.
i barely know this guy. i've only got what she's told me about him. well, what she's told me, and what i've found out through the internet. but that's mostly inferences, assumptions, and lies. i only know the idea of this guy.
but i like to think i have a pretty good idea of who he is.
i am so not going to do anything to him when i come around. i'm not so sure if it was the kissy face or the smile that put him over. well, that, or the whole, "your girlfriend ain't so much your girlfriend anymore" thing. the barbarian. i bet he'll be all layin' in bed rubbin' his knuckles tonight, thinking this is the last he'll ever feel anything about this problem again. i want to tell him, "baby, this will be your whole goddamn life." get the fireworks again, but at least i got in another last word. behind his eyes, all i saw was industry. puts up the big boy literary fatigues when he leaves the door. but back at the dark apartment, homeboy got the UFC channel tivo'd and a maxim collection to thumbfist through.
ah, shit, i got nowhere to stay tonight.