The light was the usual mustard and the bathroom was the kind of soap green that was ugly that day long ago when it was painted. He walked in, careful to pull his pant hems off the wet floor. He took about eight feet of tissue paper ripped into two sections and laid each section artfully so it divided the bowl into upper and lower sections. He had taken a multivitamin earlier in the day so the liquid came out a bright yellow florescent. He directed the fluid to the upper crescent and stared as the syrup elegantly permeated the draped folds into the pure clear lower section. All of this had its own melody which lazily played with the slow beat on the floor outside and the animal grunt solos he heard in the room he stood naked in.
staring into your best friends eyes
staring into yours
as they twinkle dim away
you always lose best friends. that is why they are the best.
