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I was at the wrong place at the wrong time
Church bell dreams,
Banquet halls,
single tear roll down slow dance four in a suit four in a dress a kind of straight, hollow Beautiful Mess. Ideally.
is it too much if i ask you to insure me?
i will be collateral anyway, sunday palms and sunday psalms, angrily swatting a bug that won’t die. am i the creep in the woods? some serial killer shit i assign myself, really i’m just a bit overbearing
An angry bone is just like any other, break and harden, break and harden, hit harder hurt more break and harden repeat repeat, it’s all a cycle when you think, a kind of wheel, just
Rolling
Speeding
Breaking
Crashing
2009 is a long ways away
Fuck is that?
A shit ton of weekdays
Sweat on me, directly approach, fly, beetle, spider, roach
Shed your skins, come crawl with me
Confused, scared, audaciously
Is it me?
Is it me?
Am I the thing that ate your key?
The creep in the woods, climbed up a tree?
“He can’t get you, but he’ll sure find me”
I hope to god you can sway softly
Hands on your head with your morning coffee
I fullheartedly wish that I couldn’t read
So I’m hopeless and isolated til you describe the news to me
If it’s perfect and honest, can that still be called dependency?
Perhaps it wasn’t built for us.
They don’t make models quite like the ones we drive,
sort of twisted in design.
But fuck it,
I’m thirty feet tall!! Fucking huge, by my standards!! Go ahead, ignore me!! See how FUCKING hard it is to block me out when i weigh eight hundred FUCKING pounds and i live a mile away. fuck your napoleon! fuck your king george! fuck your reagan and fuck your clinton, too! while i’m at it, fuck your obama! fuck all your bosses and idols who made you a pet rock in this infinite and wondrous animal kingdom
I’m kidding, of course.
There’s no one to blame but the architects of this Mortal Hotel, throwing some faulty beams in the mix and apeshitting when their ceilings gets busted
I should say, though, sincerely and sensitively, bluntly yet tentatively...
mr. throwback sneakers and
sweatshirt jeans,
you’re the first act of my little scene.
you’re my thank you speech, my tiny piece of everything.
“i think you overthink things a little.”
that’s one i’ll take with me.
but go on vacation, babe. take as many as you want, go to a parade, kiss somebody, fuck somebody, fuck everybody, ride fast, get angry!
get political!
There ain’t shit you can be told!
I’m a red-blooded North American fucking faggot, you are too! Spit at the next pair of penny loafers you see, embrace the chaos!
But when you see chaos, i hope to god you see me.
clawing at walls, kicking doors, screaming in public and wearing furs. and with your cheek in my hand, blowing through yield signs.
You’re a star, kid. i’ll always treasure the time when i flew too Close.
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