short fiction over confession

I spend much of my time falling out of love.
the first couple of minutes living in the last part of a relationship.
a jittery combination of saturated pop music 
and Rainforest Cafe’ faux-tropicalia projecting 
(arguably false) sympathy toward a character absorbed 
in his own self-inflicted misery.
I flip the advisory on a package of Tylenol 
into a hymn to human need for protection and acceptance.