Drowning in a shallow reservoir of my dreams and expectations an ache that cannot be healed by the strangers that surround me, Im supposed to know them but they dont know me. Would you pass the potatoes? She always made mash. She knew my loves. It is easy to make me smile if you know how, she knew so well she could hug me with words and heal me with faith. Christmas is a time for love, and as everyone bids their farewell to leave the public house festivities to greet their families they express love but they dont realise they are lying. Otherwise they wouldnt go. Pudding or pie? She knows I dont like pudding and now nobody left knows I dont like pudding but me tortured by my mind locked in pain surrounded by words that make no sense they jumble and distort but alone they have meaning much like my thoughts and vomit of streaming consciousness I dont want to be here but I have nowhere to go and am left wondering if something is better than nothing out comes the platter. heavy under the weight of my vulnerability and the good I have left everyone scrabbles forward using objects sharp or blunt to tear a piece of the flesh and carve at the now still remains of who I used to be without care or empathy. gravy anyone?
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it was quit a lot of fun that night. though the cleaning afterwards just... wasn't! XD