speaking of tomorrow.
here i come with a fresh plate of mistakes in one hand and prime rib in the other. we're fresh out of cajun and it's medium rare... but i assure it's simmered to perfection.
so let's clean up your face and get on with it.
i'm coming home soon... and there you will be.
here you will be.
you and she.
a fresh glass of white wine and socks to be removed. slobber from you and kisses from her.
it's a crazy fucked up life we're living here darling... but it's just right.
and it's all for you.
all for her.
all for we.
some day i'll answer to mrs., but today i'm peter pan.
yesterday i was...
what was i again?
it's the start of something beautiful i can tell. the start of a razorblade thick with sweat downthetipofatonguedownthenapeofyourneckdownthesmallofyourback
down
my
face.
that's meant to be said slow like. at the end there. like you were holding your breath for ten years and it escaped.
that is... if ten years is all the same.
like a slow motion scene... but i was sure you were born yesterday.
your tongue isn't sharp enough.
your eyes are too bright.
your skin is too thin.
let's go.
let's go.
let's go.
let. go.
