"you look like hell."

"that's because i am hell."

"right. what's wrong?"

"well, i am coughing and it tastes like blood- it's halloween so i don't mind too much, i get to pretend i'm a vampire; i am very tired, i realised that my eyebrows are uneven, and my heart is made of styrofoam- of all materials!"

"oh, shit. that...wow. are you going to the doctor's?"

"for what?"

"the cough, you know?"

"isn't it more pressing that my heart, my damned heart is made of styrofoam? God, i've always loved digging my nails into those styrofoam cups, loved the feeling of it parting and cutting away. that's what my damned heart is made of.  what the fuck does that say is in store for me?"

"is it...biologically, for lack of a better word, made of styrofoam?"

"oh, for all i know, it is."

"but you're not sure."

"no."

"no?"

"no. i mean- it beats funny. muffled. it's like that fucking cup, the one i'd dig my fingers into- i mean, it can hold something hot and burning, protect the skin from fire without dimming the heat inside. but the second it wants to expand? it cracks."

"shit, man."

"know what happens when it cracks? of course you do- the contents, the contents famous from 'caution: contents may be hot' spill. and it will be like fucking mount vesuvius exploded all over pompeii again, and i will be that stupid woman at mcdonald's or whatever who burnt herself on the damned coffee and got millions because she was too fucking simple to realise hot coffee was hot."

"i always regarded that lawsuit as the fall of america."

"america's been a piece of shit since lincoln was assassinated. his death was the invention of the lie. i hate lies, what do they even mean, fuck."

"what's happened?"

"i am so whole, i rip. there is a heart in which i have but cannot touch, and a heart in which i can touch but cannot have. a heart in my hands, begging to be let go, begging and screaming and i dig my fingers into it, like my own heart, like a styrofoam cup, and i kiss it and tell it i love it even if it kills me. i cannot let go, i cannot let go of it even as it bleeds and begs, i need it but i choke."

"what about the one you don't have but can touch?"

"it's like a necklace, but with skin."

"yeah?"

"well- no. i mean, there is a body attached to it, i felt its heat last night radiating through the inch between it and my own skin, i felt my lips lift and smirk because it was a beautiful moment, i touched the body's arm when i meant to grab my own, it stiffened but my body and the other body pretended it didn't happen. there were plastic crowns and slow songs, i watched the body's mouth and how the eyes shifted to me until mine shifted to it, it was beautiful but it was empty."

"it isn't love?"

"it can't be."

"and the other?"

"the other doesn't want me any longer. i am fighting tooth and nail but they break, and my heart, that damned styrofoam, it's cracking because two things can't fit in the capacity of one, two things which when put together, are one."

"and?"

"no and. i can't think straight, it's a cyclic worm in my brain, it is rotting, it is dying, please make it stop, please just hold me and let me cry into your shirt and let me soak it through, please stroke my neck or cheek as i cry and cry because i can't stop coughing and it tastes like blood and i don't want to be a vampire anymore."