12/06/2013 - SHE WAS HIGHER-FUNCTIONING

            She was higher-functioning, higher puncture and levelling the Mr. Shoeshine collection again. I was a turnip without a retrospect or indeed a lesson in decency to apply to her left ventricle. I was blinking in Morse code to her and she was wishing me a Thursday in a cold dank web distillery. This was never to be the case because she insisted on growing stubble and turning the poet on me. I'm not one for lyrical verse nor am I thespian who reads such thorny nonsense. I'm a darling of the street, a pounding placement in the dead of cloud logic. We were made for each other, she wasn't a piece of kindling to be ignored or abhorred like all the rest. We went out to throw logs on various fires, make radio hosts burn with New Romantic desperation and little bits of hesitation. We were sadists, sociopaths that only the moonlight could destroy. We made a planet for one another and traded gravitational pulls to see which one of us would blink first. She was dark that way, I was just gone and as good as gone at the exact same time. We pulled our car inward and I shot out to wish the sons a happy cheque signing jurisdiction activity but she stopped me with her ironic grip and said 'Don't do a silly on me now, Jacob.' I promised that I wouldn't so long as she didn't drink the rest of the bitch juice ahead of our next encounter. She complied, I agreed. We went off and made ladders out of star systems, storing some leftover bits to make chilli with later on. The murders were all her, I've never wiped a man of his flesh before and don't see the liability clause getting better anytime soon. She, on the other hand, is a wayward child, a cautious necklace for no man. She threaded their neck cartilage into her very own neck brace. She had a slight crick, you see. I'm just a chiropractor so she went off and did it all herself while I was left screwing around with the dust particles in her drink. The glass was getting to be translucent, so I spiked it with some lemonade and a drop of Neanderthal blood. She majored in Anthropology, I wanted to test her knowledge following her degree. Shortly afterwards I went into hiding so she wouldn't get any clues or helpful hints. Meanwhile I used the opportunity to go off on a toggle mission, to unbutton maps and fling them onto separate beads of sweat. As you can clearly see, they're not very big, not worth a lap dance. I'm getting better a straddling them though, I'm gradually getting better at improving my sling methodology. But she found me again, she always finds me. She pulled out a printout containing details of my premium bonds and gave me the most quizzical look I've ever seen on a woman. 'It's just the letter G.' I said.