HUNGRY HOSTILITY

…spends his crazy days in her crazy daze, fazed by the repercussions of his crazy phase. The “You’ll be okay”s and the “Yes you may”s (which seem to collectively say that it’s okay to be okay) lead her only deeper into his crazy maze of hungry haze. Her amazingly hazel eyes, sharp like his razor blades, raise her blazing left brow into an expression of crazy hostility. He stares at her staring at him staring at her stare. It grazes his heart; it grays her hair. And his gaze shifts in ways that that weighs down on her shoulders like heavy hungry hostility. He preys and she prays for something better than praise in the form of forged and fabricated phrasing that relays no more consolation than lazy greetings on never-ending Mondays. For as long as time plays and replays these crazy days, nothing shall ever satiate this hungry hostility.