a small arguement

"Get out!"
The spit hanging from his mouth was coming through a bit of the gash in his face, his porcelain whites on the brink of collapsing, were up to making decisions.
His firm finger pointing through two walls; the first being their sleeping/love making station of the house. Since she refused to wash their blankets, for the sake of refurbishing equal justice in the household, saliva, food, the body and it's liquids made ambiguous spots and shapes throughout it. One looks like a horse upside down on a brownish red ball. The bottom of the bed, dust from the kitchen brought by their feet.


As the fingers demand breaks through the first station there is the Food/entertainment/occasional love making station of the house. The fingers demand.