I wish that he snored
All he does is mutter âIâll fucking kill myselfâ âI fucking hate my lifeâ "Fuck this is a jokeâ
All night.
If I say anything I come under attack, if I move the blankets that itches him, if my foot accidentally brushes his, or my long hair touches his hand. I come under attack.
I lay still, not to move, make sounds, or exist. Waiting for morning. When he awakens and I can get an hour or so in before work. Everyone sympathizes with him, waking so early. But no one knows what abuses I am subject to at night. When he tires and the aggression begins.
I want to leave. But I have no one. And no where.













