Have you ever dreamed of these old walls? The blood that trickles slowly from your beautiful face? The screams that pour from you filthy mouth? Or the way you squirm delicately and elaborately beneath the silence of my hand over your lips? There is a secret here, dying slowly, can you hear it? Can you feel it? As your very bones crumble under the weight of my fingers like sand muffling your choking attempts to scream again into a room as dark and empty as my depraved mind.
Wake up.
Your green eyes greeted me as I rolled over again with a long sigh. The snores of the puppy lying beside the bed filled the silence of another sleepless night. The cat purred quietly as it walked over my face, and I laid there silently staring, too tired to care. You smiled at me in that half-asleep way that's more felt than seen before I rolled over and pet the dog that continued snoring and softly whimpering in a dream.
And where am I going this time? Where have I really been? I've been through all this over and over again. Falling and rising in a mad slaughter of reason and willpower. The hours wasted waiting for you to return just to shove you out the door again. And where do I go in between the shallow arguments and passionless embraces? And how do I deal with the paradox that when I'm alone I want to be with someone and when I'm with someone I just want to be alone?