Pimple Squirter Cleaner

4:36 A.M.  
I don't even know what we were drinking then    
It probably didn't matter    
It was the amount that counted in the end    
Playing the long game    
    
The room was so cold on that floor    
We scribbled in between phonebook names making up back stories.    
Adding the infidelities of Zips and Area codes    
You were amazed when I told you how many Omaha had    
I didn't blame you for thinking I was lying    
Who would know that anyways?    
     
You stopped and stared    
"There's something in that head of yours. It's like a really bad pimple waiting to burst. Like...one of those good messy ones that squirts onto the mirror and makes that 'twlock' noise."    
I laughed nervously.    
It was attempted deflection.  
But you looked on solemnly.    
Teasingly poking my forehead asking,    
"But, are you a pimple squirter cleaner? or do you wait for someone else to clean up the mess?"    
'...I....rarely? get pimples?...'    
"But when you do...I bet they're big and bubbly and gross. Probably something you would try to hide."    
'......'    
You rolled on to your back and started looking at me upside down    
"But you peg me as a face cleaner though. But you probably just forget to use soap sometimes is all."    
You ripped out the phone book page with scribbles, pocketed it and threw it into the corner. The yellow pages bursted apart.    
"I'm keeping this by the way. and you have about 2 hours to sleep before the sun comes up. *sigh*    
She's gonna call you tomorrow morning,    
*yawn* or today?.....whenever......answer your phone for once, can you find my blanket?"    
     
I got up,    
grabbed her blanket and laid it over her.    
She was already snoring.    
     
I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror...    
'pimple squirter cleaner...'    
I started washing my face but they didn't have any soap...    
'you're thinking way to much into this.'    
Patted my face dry,    
found a spot in the corner by the heater,    
and I sat up,
waiting,