Fridays nights always start the same
and they go like this:
I've got a hopeless wonder
you've all got bad intentions
hit me once, I can't hit back
it's a ragged jumbled way
to start a weekend
start anything really
and I'm more of a loser now than I've ever been
sitting in the blackout
maybe starved, maybe just tired
it can't cure Friday nights
because I never really knew anyone
had the world at my feet
and no one by my side
but you who sits there
you need to listen
because one day I'll be gone
I will have the world on fire
and the nights I needed
and maybe then you'll understand why
I spent so many Friday nights
at the top of that hill
I want smoke in
my lungs and gin
in my veins and
lips on my
lips and chills down
my spine to feel
dreams sweet and
brief I don't want
a thing but craving
weekends are made of
passion makes us do things
like fall in love with strangers
on a two day binge
doing unspeakable things
to one another
making our bodies cringe
moments of pleasure
we'll both soon forget
but living fast is fun
the best time spent!
Monday always forbids us
introducing the heartbreak game
you used my body
and I forgot your name
weekends are simply a fantasy
with their share of pain
"it was nice knowing you,
glad you came."
there is a camping trip planned and preserved
on the reservation of our hopes and dreams and summer sweet nothings. we
retreat upon an open-toed weekend, cooler gemmed
there is a place in the mountains
& on that wooded ridge it is waiting to be seen and witnessed. lived
upon, lit upon,
sure, i love you.
& sure, i’ll die. and that is forever.
& forever is -
no worry. no bluffs. no sweat.
because this life is right, and right now is everything.
to become a bloom of love more than just words and digits and plays of
time. this time
is good beer. great beer. &
the heat. the her. her soothes and sovereigns
on this land in which we live with the whole tribe and fun days.
we are our own dreams.
meet her on the shore of a river.
& she is listening and speaking and sung.
with an urge
to love and let begin.
take precedent. take my nettled little heart
and crackle like fire from it the nutrient of lonesome ode.
& from the strum of that
we cog back into the existence of small time
small town nobodies. worked little we.
service and cinema.
busting gut toward town and more weekends and more movement.
there is motion to this curve of time, kids.
curve of pages expressed
& exposed here in wayward traveled poems.
truths of some sort or hallucination. here
Waking up in a hazy fog
Regular Sunday Morning
It is Sunday right?
Bits and pieces of last night rushing to the forefront of my mind
but a feeling that there's a missing piece of vital information
aaaaaaand there's a stranger next to me
she's so still!
God I hope she's alive
My jeans are still on so we obviously didn't do anything
wait why are my jeans ripped?
Did they come this way?
No they didn't
my shoes are still on too
well at least one is anyway
where the hell is my other shoe
how does somebody lose one shoe
losing a pair is actually more understandable
I should probably go wash the glitter off my hands
wait why do I have glitter on my hands?
aaaaand I have a black eye
who did I fight?
probably got my ass handed to me
or maybe I beat up an asshole!
no probably the former
I can't fight for shit
My head is killing me
I should probably call somebody
help fill me on what the hell happened last night
Aw shit where the hell is my phone?
wait where the hell is my wallet?!
Well fuck... shitty memory, comatose stranger in my bed, ripped jeans (although I'm 73 percent sure they came this way), missing a shoe, glitter hands, black eye, sore head, no phone, and no wallet
I fucking love saturday nights
I gave myself the weekend
To feel something much different.
I met you on a weekend,
You reminded me of a time much less tainted.
I lost myself for a second,
So I can hear your breathing,
Life can be so deceiving,
When you feel like your not living.
Im much familiar with this.
Giving shelter to the hopeless.
For this is my curse,
Needing to be needed.
I left my daydreams on that weekend.
Reality, tends to kick into me.
Im so found of the freeness,
And addicted to the feeling.
Let everyday be a weekend,
A time where we can lose ourselves for no reasons.