fuck you.

you should
take off the diaphragm 
that you wear on your soul;
my tubes are tied. 

don't worry.

my finger 
trailing off in circles,
(like my mind and the moment)
circling circles on your circular
surface;

well, 
not exactly...

i just imagine it to be a small pink button--
in your alien voice like soft quick breaths
you say
'self-destruct'

and i press it methodically
lifelessly
instinctively
hoping you will explode

meanwhile...
your fingers are
s t r e t c h i n g 
the elastic lining
surrounding
something
attached to me

this perimeter breach
stimulates 
my middle finger

thus your universe climaxes
in an implosion of thought:

a moment of clarity
where you see me for me
and you realize
that words are lies
and you're about to fuck a dictionary

stop
"i don't want this to ruin our friendship"
too late.