Keeping Up The Appearance Of

The Whole Thing's Illusion, [jacob], And There's Nothing Wrong With That. It's What People Want From Us. It's What They Expect.

I Want Her To Melt Into Me, Like Butter On Toast. I Want To Absorb Her And Walk Around For The Rest Of My Days With Her Encased In My Skin. I Want.

I Strain To Hear, But My Old Ears, For All Their Obscene Hugeness, Pick Up Nothing But Snippets.

I Hate This Bizarre Policy Of Protective Exclusion, Because It Effectively Writes Me Off The Page.

I Scan The Room. Catherine Is Writing Quickly, Her Light Brown Hair Falling Over Her Face. She Is Left-handed, And Because She Writes In Pencil Her Left Arm Is Silver From Wrist To Elbow.