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David bowie.
he played that album in the last hotel room he stayed with her.
the lands were high. the Carolina was north.
"I like you more than you like me! and you didn't fuck me"
(the song "she's the one for me" by the beta band came on right while she emoted this)
He responded the devastating, "I can't help it! and I fucked you last night and now I'm hungover. isn't that enough."
she sat in the knowledge that he would never love her.
He had loved other people just not her.
she walked down the corridor and turned one door to the left before the room she always shut to keep the cats out.
he was allergic.
her eyes hooded from the knowledge that he would never see her. He would never just fucking vedge with her and watch her dance and listen to music and eat leftovers.
they had always gone out and had to do things like it was vacation all the time.
she had always known from the very very first beginning that she was going to lose him so to speak.
she thought of the indignity of the veins clotting. she had thought and wondered if she had the bawls to buy a gun and load it up in her head.
all to show him that
'goddammit babies be kind to one another."
what did it all matter?
what was matter?
electrons collating.
it made her shudder like that dog that her niece had - to recognize how much she loved him.
for now, a candle that he had brought her from the shoot stood by with his image on it as a guru buddha to taunt the living fuck out of her.
it had been hard to live.
she was giving it a try.
trying to recall that he never gave five shits what was in her brains. the crystal rainbow bowed on the keyboard and she wafted in all the memories knowing it was all - all the balls - were in his court.
"he's the one for me"
god help you human.
now the cadence for "home" by lcd soundsystem teed up while she drank and smoked to get her never thinking.
"... just do it right. make it perfect and real..."
he had never liked her songs.
it should have been
the end.
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