Sometimes it doesn’t matter how nice you are or how many favors you do. It wont change them. They don’t care if you tiptoe around them or if you confront them with kindness, so much over the top kindness, in their face so close your trying to breath in oxygen but all you get is their exhalations, that’s all you ever get. Their exxxhalations.
So close that catholic school teachers would snap your knuckles and pry a bible in the gap to remind you about distance and sexuality not kindness or closeness or any of the ness’es that are necessary for happiness.
The edges of that weathered book are facing you and suddenly you have a nose bleed from the papercuts you acquired from his book and youre so close that the droplets of blood shiver and sliver down in streaks but it isn’t bright red like one blood is oxidized, its black from their exhalations of barren air.
And you get to wondering if it will ever change and so you dare to breathe out, because most of the time you just hold your breath and bow your head but today, today you breathe out and fog is returned to your face
so you reach up to touch it and theres a wall of plexiglass and it’s the cheap kind and you don’t know how or why its there, but you cant get past it you never will and so you shirk away into the room with the noise cancellation fan to pretend your alone because that’s how it feels on this side of the plastic.
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