the shit has hit the fan

and the shower corresponding will undoubtedly stink me up. and even more for you cause really the shit you get will be because of me.

you wonder why i'm angry and i'm being all not-miss-ray-of-sunshine and you turn your face
away
from me in response.


guilt baby.

it's the best thing since whipped cream on top of blueberry waffles
on rainy days.
it' s natural sugar high
like the one that keeps you
awake with your thoughts.

and when the shit does hit the fan and you hear the shit as it
zooooooooooooms
toward you

know
that i will feel every word said, and i will cry
(quietly without you ever seeing.)
because the

guilt

baby is gonna be pricking me
never-endingly
cause i know this is
the price you pay.