Words

it is.

'i don't love you anymore'
written across the floor in spilled ink and snakeskin whiskey. seeping through the skin/eyes/fingertips and soaking through the carpet. that's just all there is to it.
'goddamn i am tired' she said.
enter the vulture-eyed salesman walking east. 23% of him looks through you. the other 77% blows away with the wind. sitting in a room littered with. blank sheets of paper. cups of coffee grounds. old newspapers.rustednails.cigaretteashesinkcoveredglovesloosehairdisaintegratedmattress and filled. with the sound. of. scratching. radio. waves.
'it's you fault' he says.

is it.