drink me nepenthe

I need a container for this, this heavy feeling of dropping you off on a dark street corner. It’s not anything but the separation, the declamation of you and I stepping different directions. You can’t demodulate the sound this makes with a sine wave of equaling value. This is tarnish and tertiary, a blanket of tongued silver darkening close to the body. I don’t know when you go to bed. Catalysis paralysis, I wait for a reply and get none because you are walking away from me in the agreed upon fashion.

Jenn asked me to come over for Tuesday morning, meaning ‘swing by Monday night’, but it seems there might have been a mix-up in the use of english language. I arrived on the last train and Kim, her sister, answered the door in confusion. She’s back asleep now and I am awake, puzzling whether I will be sewing in the morning or not. This was the plan as I knew it, but Kims avowal of ignorance leaves me in some doubt. There is no way to settle this but for sleeping here until morning. I don’t mind unexpected being on a couch a night, not when the company the next day is so nice. I’m going to drop in on Derek briefly, as well, as he is also awake.