BLUE HONEY

last night i pulled the leather cushions off my sofas, it's hard to describe what sort of green they are but if you take into effect how ridiculously much they align with the aesthetic of the walls of the lounge and the pillars around the fireplace with it's plastic coals and golden animal legs and bars, but the cushions are this green, it kind of feels like the feeling of when you accidentally saw some photos of her on my digital camera, they were of her in my kitchen in which you and i had cooked rice and cherry tomatoes and garlic and also mackerel, which i later regretted using my hands to place into the dish because for the rest of the evening and the next day up until around two my hands and body and house smelt like mackerel and man that smell would just not quit, it sat in my room because the windows have been double glazed over, leaving them unopenable, and it went through the zip of the borrowed sleeping bag that i slept in on the green leather cushions, laid out in three, because you couldn't sleep on three leather couch cushions of that greeness and shininess, so i gave you my bed and heard you talk really really fast in your sleep in a low and partially coherent voice, and then the mackerel smell, it sat on my mustache, lips, chin, dry fingers, macbook, nostrils, wrists, up until i got on the bus the next day.