sometimes the voices in my head demand to speak

and i they don't have any more of a story to tell, the just need to ramble like i do....so i take dictation and then when they've said their piece we can go our separate ways again...them to do what ever it is they do when they don't feel the need to harass the shit out of me and me to sit and wonder who's next and when they will feel like hounding me and what craziness they will have to express.

After this one i need a shot of something strong and made by the light of the moon in the back woods of someplace where they don't wear shoes or graduate passed the fourth grade.

unedited-Girlfriends- copyrighted 2012

i suppose you think i've stopped loving you but that couldn't be further from the truth. I just understand that loving you and being your friend don't actually have to coincide. I've found a point were I can not be that source of support, not because I don't believe in you , but because you need to believe in yourself...I can't do these things for you...I can't live this life for you and I can't wait for you to see me, here in the back ground loving you... I can't continue to be the three am designated driver, leaving my bed to brave the cold dark night only to find you've gone home with a booty call or luck of all lucks gotten a cab and never bothered to call. I can't keep washing your snot from the sleeves of my shirt just to find a place to dry my own tears. I can't ignore the life around me with in me that is faltering, wilting, dying because your issues, your drama, your grass must be tended to while mine is left to burn and die in the scorching Texas sun.  I can't be continue to watch you trip merrily, dangerously, manically through life destroying hearts and dreams and goals with reckless abandon. Or I could, but I'd hate myself in the morning. you think I am so loving and "the best friend with the purest heart" as i stand over you trying desperately not to puke on your head as you vomit from a night of too much booze and too little restraint. And i used to be that person...the person that cared and i scared myself today when i caught a glimpse of myself in the streaked mirror over the sink, the sounds of your retching sending chills up my spine: I could shove your head in the toilet and flush repeatedly and you'd never remember it in the morning.  I could leave you to nearly drowned in the tub, or maybe let you just slip and fall in the shower, the impact so jarring that your forced into a startled moment of sobriety, clarity rushing at you so fast that you run for the liquor cabinet and down shot after shot in an effort to regain the distilled fog that hides your hideousness from yourself. Scared you with that thought didn't I? Actually, it scared me too, but then again- it turned me on and that scared me more. 

My nipples got kinda hard thinking about how it would feel to listen to you calling out for me, longing for my company the way I've longed for yours. A trickle of sensual electricity raced over my skin thinking of the way you'd call and leave pitiful messages on my machine, needing a ride home from the bar or some strangers bed, but i'd instead just turn the volume up on the radio and flip to the next page. OR maybe I'd answer the phone in a breathless rush as my lover plowed into me, his strokes hitting all those spots that make tears come to my eyes and you'd know that "i can't talk right now" wouldn't be followed by "i'll be right there".   A smile creeps over my lips and I look back down at you, you're snoring now and its reverberating off the porcelain and water, sounding rather obnoxious. You're bleached hair is darkened with sweat and probably some biological fluids not entirely your own and I sigh.  I kick your thigh gently before bending to drag you, my arms getting coated in the booze laden sweat that's pooling in arm pits of the dress you borrowed with out asking two years ago and I am thinking..."we'll fuck if i want that back now".  I pull and tug until I've dumped you face down head hanging over the edge of the rumpled bed.  And instead of taking your shoes off and settling on the sofa to be their when the sunlight burns your eyes, I pilfer your jewelry box and steal all my shit back, I rifle through your wallet and take back the mileage card i loaned you for emergencies that has undoubtedly been used to finance this latest binge and i text that guy that i liked, but you swore he was just a poser looking to hook up with you... I tell him,"yeah i know my friend said i wasn't  interested but i really am"  and as i stroll out of your down town loft and head for my own quiet house, in the burbs I am lighter.  I am not your friend. I love you, just as you have always loved me. We just can't be friends.