with a love like that
Happy sixtieth. It has been a while. Why do people call? Why do people bother? The final period jittered, marked itself on the page. Floating for a moment in hesitation, straightened and stretched. I glanced over the pages my eyes sighing at every misplaced letter and misspelt word. Considering for a moment to retype the entirety I curse the speed to which I set about the task. He who meditates is lost. I thought about the lies. I had ceased thinking about the people before I set about this final chapter. People always got in the way. Even here they sneak in unannounced and are nothing but a hindrance. A sigh. A downtrodden look. Pathetic - I'm a loser, so why don't you kill me. Even Charlie would look at me with disgust. Maybe he wouldn't even look. I wallow in what remains of self pity. Giving up on the task at hand I get up. I stand over the pages of meaningless dribble that litter the desk and flow onto the floor. I undress.
Young tales.
You lied to me.
The bath is overflowing. Slip in and the body mingles with warmth. Now the body is in pleasant change, unrelenting, unsuspecting of the blade being drawn.
The bath is overflowing.
She loves you. yeh. yeh. yeh.