Lying in the nook that is your arm, I never fell asleep.
I didn't relax either. I stared at the ceiling, the crack
in the wall, that box of something I can't identify. I
wonder when will the time come when you move and
I've got a toe cramp or a charlie horse, what do they
call those things? "It really depends on where you're
from in the country." I can find my hair all over the
place and that's the only part of me that stays
There's no other way to take this, or give it. I'm
kind of wrinkled and sort of--- a lot of--- disheveled.
The only way to get out of here is to escape from
your arm. I'm not sure if I'm ready to go
Yeah, you're right. I gotta get out of here. The cramp
the horse, I don't know what the fuck it is, is acting
as riotous as my pulse. But not in a sexy way. It's a
way that makes me wonder how much time I've got