The sense of rage and half-felt futility is

exactly what I want to feel and is

Exactly how I thought being this half-way drunk (which is

what prevents me from giving a single goddamn which is

something I don't really believe can happen anymore) and is

the way I thought that things should go, but things are

different from how I thought they should be and are

far more complicated although (and I know what we are

Is precisely the reason that my consciousnesses are

those things again precisely which) we are

alone, but we were

together and what we were

and what (to move the tenses, which were

restricted to the singular, then plural, but were

perfect for capturing) what we were.