It's like a forehead flick.

Annoying tic.

Blitzquik, is that what it was called? Batter running down my face and almost on my sweetly-ironed shirt. You bastard, it's your workload at the end of the day and am I okay, no because there's a red light and-

Road rage. Red is rage, red is stop and go ahead and a bitten tongue with spots of saliva that do not know where they become clear because they are-

Starwhite. Not starlight, star white, because that dwarf is dying, exploding like pleasure at the pit of the chest and a heart burning with intense pink love and why is there a

Rainbow. Pleasure rainbow, acceptance rainbow made of blue and lies and why do people claim to accept everything when they push the other group aside because their pain is more important. Like the blue, blue sky which is grey

Because the rain won't go away and neither will the bloody murder from a smirk of a blond-haired brother and a messy forehead flick.