Fatally Yours

"Well, if it's okay I'll just grab my shit and leave. I won't say one word, I'll keep my tricks up my sleeve. You flew off the handle, opened fire on me. Put me down, put me out of my misery. I'm fatally yours."
Today....
Today was just fine.
But it couldn't be.
This house is chaos.
And what's more?
Oh, Lord, what could it be?
On these days that I ramble incoherently.
I was sitting alone, reading.
Satan came and stood over me, I waved up to him.
He nudged me with his foot, so I poked him; this went on for a few minutes.
"How are you?" I asked.
He told me this story about how a few days ago he and one of his friends were laughing about me while they were on shrooms.
Mmmm, he really shouldn't have said that.
I found that dark place within myself when he said that.
That girl who moved on, who just doesn't give a shit was standing there and telling me to stay calm.
So I did, Ivy was shocked.
"I'm glad you found it amusing," I managed to reply with the biggest smile.
I began muttering about poetic injustice and illiteracy, with wide eyes and a big grin.
He had no idea what I was talking about, I kept saying, "I'm sure."
And being generally pretentious.
I can do that, because I was wearing pink lipstick, because my curls were falling down my back, because my ass looked good in those jeans, because he interrupted my reading; mostly just because he's screwed me over so many goddamn times, I reserve the right to smile real big and act completely pretentious.
He said that he had to leave to meet his girlfriend and skated away.
I exploded in frustration, yelling about "Why can't he just leave me the fuck alone?!"
My friend told me to speak in gibberish, 'cause it would make me feel better; it did.
I left with Ivy, we talked until we got to my house.
This is where you find me now, in the midst of chaos.