A Rough Draft

Mass Consumption

everytime i try to start this entry, all i can think about is how i got through the night without so much as a scratch.   so that is what "rough" means, that state of being on the edge (of the bed) hanging on (to the sheets) and looking at death square in the face as you stab me repeatedly with your piercing gaze.  i remember your biting humor and how i fear it might leave three distinct marks on my leg, and how you like sucking the marrow out of life, and me fearing it might leave marks on my neck. i am not high up (or on aching sides). 

no it was not perfect and i should stop romanticizing this memory.  i should stop remembering hearing you snore softly throughout the night, nuzzling and cuddling in the dark recesses of my mind. 

no it is not perfect, this rough draft.  i feel i need another chance ... to finish it off the way i want it.