Someday I’d like to wait on a thunderstorm. Yeah, to listen to the rain and thunder fight for the night, and to converse with the solitary frog by my window. I wonder then, will I ever know.
Perhaps not, perhaps ignorance is the piss which warms my bed every night. One wonders, then, and you really can’t blame one for, how long before the piss starts smelling so foul and becomes so nauseating that one is left with no option but to leave its warmth?
Yeah, the thunderstorm will keep me company then. But that’ll leave too, and so will the frog. Perhaps, it came closest to sympathising. After all, the only reason he came by my window was to take shelter from the storm. We’re both clear on that.
Karma, you say?
Hah, Karma knows no justice.
All your dreams are from now till Sunday, while mine only begin next week. You see, we don’t agree. Yet, somehow, we’re in the piss, together. It keeps us warm. Most of the time.
My hairs stand on end to think of it. You’ll never know. You, in your own self-indulgent piss.
I’m bleeding all over you. Would you look? They’re taking me away, give me a reason to stay.
I don’t steal, I adapt.
You see, I’ve never felt more at home, or lonelier, with anyone else. We’re a good fit, but every now and then, it’s a different season and I expand, and we don’t fit any more. But you’re unmoved, you’re warm, content, in your piss.
Sisyphus.
Hah, do you see.
We were sharing a cup the other day when the rock rolled down again. We sighed, set another date, and then parted each to attend to our own rocks.
Is it comfort, want, or habit?
Or maybe just the piss.
I have conversations in my head. Someday, when I kill, they’ll find this and know where it all started.
I ask you, but you don’t hear. Instead, you talk of the weather and the impending haircut.
Am I the same then, just evolved? Or am I building my life around a theory?
There has to be a point, after all. We live, we fart, we die. But what explains all that in between.
You don’t need a reason, I admit, but that’s only after you have one. Maybe it’s me, I make allowances for that, but surely not always.
Why lie? Why hit where it hurts the most? Sometimes I’m loved only when I’m needed, or so it seems.
Anyway, I’m gonna go now. Come morning, the piss will be gone, and I will have known that it was all in my head.
Stick around, won’t you?
