thursday :: exertion

Hitting the floor, get yourself out of bed, wait a beat to slow the spin. Back of the hand to your mouth as your body revisits what you had to drink, push into the bathroom and fall to your knees.

Someplace in your soul you wonder why there’s so many images of girls getting sick and someone else holding their hair or their hand or… …them. No way. No how. Not ever. Getting sick is an alone game. Which is of course maybe why you have those scars on your wrists.

Pray that the man in your bed sleeps through.