A drunken revelation, a defiance of my heart, and the realization of her talking stomach. My floored alarm clock in my black bedroom. And the yearning to feel. The shear forced contact between my head and my wall and my heart on my floor. And how ill and contemptuous I feel when I get out of bed against my better judgment. The light through my curtains at twelve p.m. when I just want to sleep. When I remember to breathe....