Sometimes I can't fucking stand noise,

Every smack of your lips,

Every breath you take,

All amplified in my head like 20 speakers stacked on top of each other,

 

The way you scratch at your dry skin like the rats in our attic,

How your voice holds that perfect amount of bass that makes it easier to be heard through thick walls,

But you've always managed to cut through those.

 

Right now, I can hear you eating an apple,

Like you want to spite God himself,

Taking your time to hum and crunch and slurp on any excess juices that had dribbled,

From the corpse of a mother,

 

Hearing you living a healthy life hurts my head,

My heart is numb to you but my ears work just fine,

Now your coughing and coughing and coughing,

I can hear you throw your whole body forward to match the strength of each heave,

 

And I hope it hurts you as much as you hurt me.