Why Was I Holding On To Something

A Curtain Of Stars, Miles Of Them, Are Scattered, Glowing, Across The Sky And Their Multitude Humbles Me, Which I Have A Hard Time Tolerating. She Shrugs And Nods After I Say Something About Forms Of Anxiety. It's As If Her Mind Is Having A Hard Time Communicating With Her Mouth, As If She Is Searching For A Rational Analysis Of Who I Am, Which Is, Of Course, An Impossibility: There... Is... No... Key.

I Tried To Make Meat Loaf Out Of The Girl But It Becomes Too Frustrating A Task And Instead I Spend The Afternoon Smearing Her Meat All Over The Walls, Chewing On Strips Of Skin I Ripped From Her Body

But I Don't Want To Wear A Condom Because I Don't Feel Anything," And She Says Calmly... Glaring At Me,"if You Don't Use One You're Not Going To Feel Anything Anyway.

I'm On The Verge Of Tears By The Time We Arrive At Pastels Since I'm Positive We Won't Get Seated But The Table Is Good, And Relief That Is Almost Tidal In Scope Washes Over Me In An Awesome Wave.

I Think We've All Lost Some Kind Of Feeling.