Making Out

Her head was on last night. She has many different heads - there interchangeable. She's no potato head though just a figure of speech and expression with lots of playful parts. When her heads not on it's difficult to get to know her her mouth turns into a moth chasing moonbeams. Eventually her head stays put then I impatiently construct imaginary love scenes while she sips red wine through red lips (slightly bored as usual). I hurriedly cobble together odd bits of fabrication out of unprintable words, sometimes she helps sometimes she runs around screaming: "For God's sake do better." Then I get mad and change her face. We're just a normal couple neither of us are content until we disassemble our reality completely. Often we don't know who we are. Those times are the best.