I'M NOT ADRIFT | Eminem

You Need To Wake Up

It's just so real.
It scares me.
It doesn't move.
It's immaculately still.
I suppose that's a red flag.

"Are you hallucinating? Nisha, baby, there's nothing on the ceiling..."

"Yes, I've connected the dots. It should disappear in a few blinks... that or walk off"
I try and blink repeatedly.
I turn my gaze from Marshall back to the ceiling.
It moves slowly, crawling into one of the corners and dissolving into a black fuzzy ball of nothing defined.
Mhm, well.
See you around buddy.

"When you hallucinate, how real does it get?" He asks curiously, hoisting himself up on the palm for his hand, resting his chin in it.

"Incredibly real. I've had moments where someone comes up to me in the grocery store and we talk for a few moments... then when I walk off, I notice how everyone's looking at me. Their raised eyebrows or faces of worry... I've just got to assume that I conjured it all in my head. That or when someone randomly show up in my apartment in the middle of the night and I don't know how they got there" I laugh softly before giving into a sigh.
It's comedic to me.
My misfortunes are hilarious.
Life is absurd enough.
No point getting hung up on it.

His expression spells out fascination.
The corner of his lip turns up slowly as his eyebrow cocks.

"Does part of you think that it's kind of funny... I mean, I'm just curious cuz you're laughin' about it."
For a second his face doesn't look quite right.
I can't focus on it.
It's fuzzy.

"Life's absurd. It's not easily explainable and trying to figure out why things are the way they are... that only makes me feel miserable. Things feel better when I laugh about them. It's funny. It's funny when I have whole conversations with no one. It's funny when I'm grabbing a knife in my kitchen and threatening nothing. Imagining what that looks like from the outside, instead of what it feels like to me... that's when I feel better."
Laugh.
Make a spectacle of yourself.
You're the jester of your own life.

"I know you want to understand the human condition... but I don't think it's anything more than that...trying to laugh through depressing moments... falling into philosophical beliefs in order to justify your existence. If you see me as normal... then I have bad news for you..." His lips come to mine quickly.
He's sealing my mouth with his.
His hands come to my face.
One wanders into my hair.
I'm smothered in his embrace.
I bring my hands to his neck.

He's warm in my hands.
he feels like meaning.
He feels like a silent understanding.
His left hand disappears from my cheek and soon I hear his drawer open.
His hand sightlessly searches for something.
A condom I assume.
I've never had sex in the morning.
Not yet.
Well, there's a first for everything.

Between kisses, his lips pay generous attention to my cheeks, pressing tiny little gestures of love to them.
"Do you want me as bad as I want you right now, or am I just a horny fuck?"
His knee slips in between my legs, widening them slightly.
It grinds against my core slowly.
Knowing how he makes me feel, he lets out a 'hm?'
He beckons me.
Beckons me to answer.

"I want you Marshall... fuck-" I feel unable to form words as he settles himself between my legs, grinding himself against me.

Let meaning disappear.
Nothingness is nothing at all.
Accept and bask in simple, animalistic pleasures.
Give me a pain I'm used to.

"Hurt me..." I whisper, not sure how I want him to deal with my words.
The two words leak masochistic desire.
I want to be destroyed.
That's my dirty fantasy.