i've been thinking about the people who live above me' i've been thinking about them late at night, when i'm lying on my back, trying to stop thinking about thinking too much. i've been picturing them crashing through, pouring down on top of me, through the layers and levels of plywood and i-beams, breaking thin pipes filled with stale shit and expired milk and a bottle of vodka that an alcoholic's girlfriend dumped down the drain, and now it's all on my bed, worn foam insulation stuffing my mouth, and they're all on top and i can feel my ribs popping one by one and digging into my lungs like hastily sharpened wooden daggers, rough and broken off at the tips by kids with vampires hot on their heels.nnon the train, a woman grabbed the handrail above my head. her wrists slid out like turtle heads and her knuckles gripped white on the bar and i could see it all. faded blue road maps of veins crisscrossing, merging, rushing to secure that her long, painted fingers didn't turn white and fall off. i could see them keeping time, beating, i swore, with the click of the tracks underneath me, gaining speed, pushing through the tissue paper skin, and i wondered if there were ever thoughts of opening them up, of cleaning them out' maybe she lived in my building, would it happen in the tub and flow into the pipes and rain down with the rest of it, staining my sheets? the train came to a stop and the pulsing slowed and she pulled her hideous wrists away, hiding them deep in her pockets as she exited. she must've been embarrassed and god i was so relieved.