All we really want is sleep. We watch documentaries
and study hibernation. We play Scrabble and compare
bedsores. Lesions is our favourite seven-letter word.
Sometimes we go for breakfast. I hate the way you eat
your eggs. We sip cough syrup from champagne glasses;
everything is glamorous if you use the right tableware. Call me
darling. Your mother calls and asks why I wear so much black.
We mix our metaphors with Sprite and they become flat
and we drink them anyways. You eat Nutella from a spoon
in the dark and I pretend not to notice. For my birthday
I ask for a catheter to keep tucked between my thighs.
We make plans to become nothing at all;
we practise every night.
from subTerrain #72