Woke at 2 by a drunk rap tap tapping no wait fucking pounding just short of shattering the glass on the buildings main door. So close to the wall I’m pressed towards while sleeping. Fight or flight? He won’t wake up. Fight it is. Pull on pants and sneak out the door to find a group of drunks giggling and yelling about how drunk they are. Thank god they said so or I may never have known. I start to say something but don’t. Hear a guy say hey I’ve seen her before. Who gives a shit you small town yank hayseed. Be quiet. Teeth closed. Lips closed quiet dammit. Hide around the corner for about 5 second while I hear tweedle dumb boy band his way down the stairs. Why yes. I so do want to hear your pitchy crooning at 2 am. I ask do you know who was banging on the door? (I’d also like to mention I could hear everyone laughing directly after said pounding exclaiming “dude you could hear it all through the building. Congrats cave man. Bask in the attention) reply is simply “probably the last person to come in”. Rage takes. It wouldn’t be like fighting a man. More so like beating the shit out of an 11 year old. I’m capable strength wise of that. No. Calm. Remember. Positivity. No actually fuck that. But do cower in the tiny corner of the bed that isn’t full of knees and teeth grinding and stew on high for 4 hours or till the sun comes up.
April 6 2013