...but, I've got to look myself in the mirror every night before I go to sleep.
I wonder to myself, "how many goddamn knives does he have?" It baffles me to no end. I can't possibly be more uneasy than I am at this very moment. It's that quiet feeling in the warm dark. The uncomfortable flush-warm feeling of evil as you can literally feel your blood moving through the pipes in your body. The dizzy nauseous feeling that settles in when your gag reflex triggers your stomach to vomit it's contents. He makes my fucking skin crawl. He fucking disgusts me.
Sometimes, when I look at him, his face morphs and shapes itself into a vermin-like specter. Something from the weasel family. He moves, no, he slinks around. His eyes have no color, just black marbles sunk back into his slender skull. Other times when I look at him, he glances away, like he's been staring at me for extended time. He studies me. He tells other people that "we're exactly alike." He creeps me out.
It's like he waits in the darkness, with a knife in his teeth...crouching...sweating with clammy skin, breathing heavily...probably touching himself...waiting for me to show my cards. With his pointed nose, and squinted eyes. An angular snout to poke into the tight uncomfortable, private spots of other people. The places you don't show anyone unless they are extended an invitation. He finds them anyways, with no invite. He only violates. He rapes trust.
Then he jumps out of the shadows and sinks a knife in my back. It's like I'm living a bad dream. I don't even like him...I never have. I don't know why it's understood that I do. I don't have the slightest fucking clue as to why there's any loyalty there at all. And her...she fell down the wrong rabbit hole. She can expect a twisted journey of ups and downs...talking through drugs and cheap sentiments. These moves are too calculated now. Every instance is a coincidence when it happens once.
It's strategy when it happens twice.
The Growlers - Feeling Good
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