I glance up at wandering lips and glass eyes. I can see the storms swirling, a tormenting kind of chaos that’s ripping away at the seams of foundation. I see the walls, the splendid grandeur of the masonry fit tight to serve its purpose. Through a plethora of pain, inured to a sort of neon violence, the concrete barriers have become quintessential. A sempiternal war that rages on, and your mind, the labyrinthine battlefield. It’s a beautiful, tragic thing, but…

     You snap your fingers at me. 

     No, I didn’t hear a goddamned thing you just said. I offer a sympathetic smile and brush your cheek with my hand in a nurturing sort of way. Your stubble scratches, but this time I don’t mind. I redden with embarrassment and shoot my gaze towards the speckled linoleum tiles.

     I manage to sputter a muffled and coy apology. I really don’t mean to seem distracted or inattentive. I mean no disrespect. Can I help If those warm whiskey glances absorb and conjure my soul from this body? You far from disinterest me, with a hexing voice that lures my mind from the depths and the most fascinating, intriguing, exquisite mind that’s composed of insanity and beauty. 

     Don’t praise me for my heart, wisdom and courage; I’d die to be your ingenue.