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While she harangues
me about not throwing away an empty milk bottle
I feel like Marlow exploring
humanity’s heart of darkness
because people never get worse
(or better)
than when they’re with their lovers,
completely open;
because her wide screaming
lips are like a tunnel;
because where’s the love
in every morning beginning with an argument?;
because this riotous river of a relationship
leads only savagery;
because I can’t fathom anything blacker
or worse
than this horror.
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I like the imagery of the empty milk bottle. It is an every day object, but seems to be from another time. I like where you are going with this, and somehow, I wish it were longer. I want to hear more of how it is better AND worse. This is good material. COuld you expand it?
