HIGH by DEFINITION July 9, 2010
You always said Lovers should be lovers. I knew this was true, because I heard you say it in your sleep. Your sounds were high definition, like you were closer to God with a pipe in your praying hands. Your wheezing set flame to my foot. By the light of your computer screen, I rummaged your desk drawers like a vagabond to find your red inhaler. I was immediately concerned and desperately in love. My sleeping, wheezing angel had half empty canisters of dizzying depression stashed away in dusty corners. Your wheezing made sense. No use in hiding mine, now. I wrapped my lips around the nozzle and opened my heart to you. Our sins now in sync, I laid my head on the yellowy pillow next to your sleeping, talking head and listened. I listened to your somniloquy loud and clear like crystal meth.
