The Fight or Flight Response


O my peach, choke me on the curbs 
of Paris, over and over. Tell me you love me 
love the way I look in my blue dress. Wait 
and please don't slam the door when you leave 
again. One last thing: do you like my tight 
sweater. Doesn't it fit me doesn't it fit me 
that I am unsure of the meaning of balloons, 
of party hats, of family. And what are friends
but deadweights, o god deadweights. I am glad 
I could say over and over all night please baby.

I am lying at the bottom of this bush. 

What I mean is,
life seems to go on 
when you're self-

a) loathing
b) duplicating
c) fulfilling