The soul of the asylum is the one giving out the meds. I listened to you talk for hours but I don’t remember anything you said. Your lips distracted me. My mind distracted me. The safe word is ‘continue.’
We went for coffee, but we accidentally grabbed the same cup. I let go and enjoyed myself. You held on and filled up. Shocking, I know. What was the meaning of this? What was the gist? I’d probably do it again if you really wanted it.
You asked me nicely with your wandering hands, and I couldn’t refuse in the state I was in. I thought I might be staying inside your arms, but the grass is always greener the next morning. My head hurts and I’m sleepy.
Something for this headache, something for this heartache, sometimes the cure for one is the cause of the other.