i'm a f~cking a~~hole & why luc simonic i'm a f~cking a~~hole it sure would be nice if nichole were down here by me, as long as she didn't talk too loud or make too much of any kind of racket or as much as ask me any question about anything. i have this empty kind of feeling in my gut. i just ate some veggie burgers and some mixed vegetables and some fruit. all those colors would be beautiful together; corn, carrots, peas, clementines, almonds, spicy black bean burger, milk, but i just jammed the sh~t in my mouth. i hear her up there making noises like opening up and closing doors and turning the water on and off and bustling about. i want to call to her. beg her down here to be motion less and silent so i could be gut wrenched about her total use less ness. why? "so we can waste more time and then more stuff won't get done around here!?", is what caused me to smash my hands on the desk and break parts of them. it's the right pinky finger and it's gotten all white and dead looking. i think it is in shock and so is the left. soon i say, "you have never been a a supporter of my writing! i wonder why i ever got with you!" and then she was all like; standing up and i told her to sit down and she was like "i'm going to get some chapstick. i'm out of chapstick." i demanded her to sit down and wait for me. i yelled it at her it wasn't a real yelly yell. more demanding. and then i told her i wasn't going to force her to do anything. and she laid back down on the couch. and i guess that i should say something else to her before too long, plus this poem is going nowhere fast and typing hurts right now because of my pinky fingers.