growing.

like dripping toddlers that won't shut up. with their big spitty dripping toothless mouths and snot dripping noses. their little fists pounding against the ground, the same thumping over and over. that's what you sound like to me, maybe possibly worse. like tightwads and gatherers picking up cents for yeast then complaining the scale doesn't fit your standards you hold for yourself. being lonely and your only friend is a beast that you don't even know how to speak to. you'll remember parts of what i said that was so terribly tearing against your wall of feelings that just makes you cry up bitter salt you can't even taste anymore but not remembering the things spilling from your raw smelling lips of disgusting. like i'm not going to remember. of course i will because i dream it exaggerated that night. each little thing getting burned into my mind like your hidden cigarettes against my brain. as if it's not your fault, try to grow a little before you die. it only gets worse as you sit there each and every day all die, i'm surprised things aren't growing, things aren't eating, or things aren't breading. like i'd come home and have a couple green siblings growing from your belly bottom. you wouldn't notice them there anyway. they'd get the occasional crumb of course, the occasional stain they'd fight over. and i plug my ears but i wake up to it anyway and when i don't i'm sleeping it, dreaming each and every word scream scrummed from wrinkled lips that's disgusting. i can't stand you anymore. i can't even tell if my brain is slowing or speeding but it's disgusting. you're disgusting.