But is it really the fatal drop? Because from what I’ve witnessed, I never died from any of the cutting-edged words you spat at me. I never even flinched. Yet, every time, I relapse. I do it again. I press my precious nostril against the plastic of my red straw and inhale the powdered wonders of snow… As I do it, an immense feeling of bewilderment strikes me — here you are, watching my every move. It seems to me that you were only gone for a second. Yet you were there, all the time.
Now I just have to find the right switch to bring you back to life.

clichés et lieux communs

à chaque jour un songe se meurt en toi

Shine on me. Sodium light baby.
Shine on me. Sodium light baby.
Shine on me. Sodium light baby.
Shine on me. Sodium light baby.

— The The “Sodium light baby”

The lesbian “urge to merge” is strangely shrouding upon me, as I lay in the scent of my bed. Restless I am, because I let myself be misguided by your dichotomous behaviours. You’re afraid yet you keep yanking your chain, waving at me, trying to attract my attention. Too often, you are the centre of my ravenous attention. You are at the centre, as always. As usual. Using me. User friendly. You’ve uttered words of wisdom. Well at first it seemed like wisdom, but as the clouds cleared off, their true nature appeared: fear. You’re a product of fear. You’re led by it, while it’s supposed to be the other way around. But this time, I won’t look away. I’ll look it square in the eye and tell it to fuck off. Even so, you’re too much of a pussy to admit the truth.
I get up and take off the bedspread, erasing you once and for all.
Once.