Before the pen clots and the ink stops flowing:

In a moment I know by way of familiarity; all day long I’m thinking the same old thoughts and inside my head they go round in circles concentrically.

And then the pen slows and the ink stops flowing.

And did she ever really exist to begin with; what will her friends think of our parity? Some day I’m gonna meet her, we’re going to talk about the things we have in common like breathing and bleeding; contain our lives in a single paragraph just like those books we enjoy reading.

And then the pen slows and the ink stops flowing.

Until then I’ll just lay here until I lose feeling; white tiles with water stained dreaming, lying on the floor staring at the ceiling; I don’t ever want to realize this situation isn’t exactly appealing.

And then the pen slows and the ink stops flowing.

Skipping over crosswalks like when we we’re little girls playing hopscotch whilst juggling juxtaposed feelings and an attention span in deficit; twelve years later we changed our minds when our lips met tasting each other’s spit.

And then the pen slows and the ink stops flowing.

————

We would talk about the things we have in common like breathing and bleeding; contain our lives in a single paragraph just like those books we enjoy reading and then the pen slows and the ink stops flowing and until then I’ll just lay here until I lose feeling; white tiles with water stained dreaming, lying on the floor staring at the ceiling; I don’t ever want to realize this situation isn’t exactly appealing.