The streets we walked down as lovers are buried. They exist only as bubbles of time that float around my cock as I bath on my return from work. Remembering her perched on the edge of the bed, she would wait for me to unlatch her bra and cup her breasts. Sometimes I would, and sometimes I would simply pull her back by the hair and take her until I had nothing left to give. Closing my eyes and submerging myself, the hot soapy water is no replacement for the womb, but, for now, it will have to do. Lying there with a cigarette burning away perched on an empty coke can, the image of her nipples comes to me, and comparing them to others I’ve seen, I judge hers to be the best. She will remain nameless, for it would be cruel to identify her solely on the quality of her nipples. She had many other talents, after all. And yet those twin charms always bring a smile to my face. The trees outside are in bloom, and as I walked beneath them a few hours earlier, there was no telling whether it was the future or the past. The day coming to a grinding halt, the buildings spoke to me of failure while the flowers whispered of hope. All those places and shadows that still linger after all this time. It’s enough to make you feel crushed. To snuff out the last vestiges of warmth in a soul that’s grown so cold. All these people trying to present an image of themselves; how they whore every last inch in an attempt to convey success as if they were the first. They act as if they’ve made some great discovery every time they step foot out the fucking front door. Each job and lover worshiped as if it made them holy. Jesus, it’s enough to make you want to pour bleach in your eyes. Was it Sartre that said ‘Hell is other people’? Whoever it was, they were true. Humans are empty vessels searching for meaning and adoration when all they deserve is a bullet between the eyes. Put them out of their misery and let the animals breathe easy tonight. Let cats and dogs live in perfect harmony as mankind fades into yesterday. Please, let me have this one thing. Let it happen, and punish us for being the bland demi-gods we are. Maybe save her with the nipples, though. Place her in a boat and float her downstream along with some monkeys and rabbits. Listening to Elliott Smith as the moon appears above the rooftops; this is my one wish.