Chapstick In a Restaurant

There was nothing left for me to do but put on chapstick so I rubbed the soft mush into my lips with my head facing every corner of the abandoned restaurant—full of people. I frowned. I frowned at the fighter, could never smile at a lover and I fell. I fell into soggy streets, stumbling, stomach rumbling, with foamy fluid all around, and a hole emerges from the depth of my soul—or the side of the wet street, not sure which anymore. Instead of things falling into the hole, the hole fell into things and my life became confused. I wore my smile down and it hurt. I don’t want to cry anymore, I don’t want tears to send me to sleep. But sometimes it’s harder to take away the bad thoughts than it is to think of them. harder to breathe than remain thoughtless.