fuck you, you confuse me when we talk the way we used to talk before you ran away from me, panicked and scared and you're sweet and nice and wouldn't harm a fly and you say that you don't have it in you to be mean but i think you don't know, you just don't know and you say we should do this again soon, that you know tomorrow i'm busy but maybe...and i interrupt you because i don't want to count on you, i don't want to depend on you, i don't want to expect...expect anything, hope for anything...and my head is mixed up...and i wonder when the last time i took that pill was because i can't remember anything from before we met downtown...and i hate that all my anger, all my anger at you just seems to disappear when you are nice to me and i wonder where that came from, where that comes from...a black dog, waiting...sometimes i think i would starve to death patiently waiting for you to come back...only i'm not sure who "you" is sometimes...are you a loop, a pattern...or do you really exist?