Apartment Living

‘Why don’t you shut the fuck up!’ he throws words, she throws plates
We all recoil, huddled, humbled in our blankets of, ‘is that what we sound like?’
These people cannot conceptualize the terror of open ears.
Between the two-by-four studs and drywall springs some secret language…
Languished and emptied that pool of decent lines that are always crossed,

To let the gulls and albatross nibble at the heart of consequence…S

trike variance while supple islands of attachment rot under proximity.

We cuddle and fuck, hoping our voices carry through at the same intensity,

This sound acceptance shared, beating heads against bed boards.
No more arguments, its just gender posturing.
Overhear the money question, through the din of our panting,
raised voices…
MONEY – that bastion of relationship doom,
like evil comes at midnight when the silence is broken by anguish, tears and stupidity.
our neighborly silence
a vigil set for broken dishes
we need to move dear…

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