if i push you a little and get hit by a truck instead i’m okay with that


i refuse the painkillers to help my mood
at night i sound like a five-year-old
i am love i am the national book award
i say, ‘isn’t it funny we both didn’t get hit by a truck’
you say, ‘be careful what you wish for’
i say, ‘um, why should i be careful what i wish for if i’ll be happy
if i get what i want?’
you say, ‘it’s hard to tell if you’re being sarcastic’
i say ‘we would be able to have a real conversation in the hospital’
i roll to face away from you and vomit in a bedpan
there is blood in the vomit and i am still pretty happy