i 've got a soft spot for the smell of tobacco and the taste of whiskey
and the voice of boys who claim to miss me

i long to get high
high up in the trees
in the hills
along the ridges
     i live to pierce the atmosphere
and note the lack of sensation as i plummet

oh how i love it
     those cheap thrills of the fall

i wish i were a sea shell

a perfect spiral fit to be cradled in your palm
something for you to focus on
when the noise you've spent so long focusing on
becomes too much to interpret

i wish i were a sea shell

a direct line between you and the cosmos
the etherial red phone
you press to your ear to hear what your heart already knows your brain needs reminded of
     the swish of blood and grey matter
that steadies your flippant pulse

i wish i were a sea shell
deemed too relevant upon your moment of discovery
to leave at rest with the other detritus
exposed at low-tide

i often times get distracted from myself
by the person i like to think that i am

she's a ******* catch
     a cash-in-hand
     done-deal find
worth every dime

i'm tangled up line
     woven into the creek-bed
that couldn't even catch the sunlight

but it's alright

     i got a few coats of gold krylon
hiding my rust from the mirror

as much as i loathe the familiarity of your frame
i can't help but be mesmurized by your face
     the look of your lips and the shape they take
as you wrestle the bottle to death


     i confess
     it's something i dream of
as the nightmares change their shapes

how could i ever expect to believe
that you understand
when you and i both know
     we see the world through different eyes

you don't see the monsters
who hide beneath my eyelids
you don't hear the things they whisper whilst i sleep
     you don't see my ****** up dreams

and yes
     i'd love for you to stay
and i do taste your flesh
          in the way you say "i know"

but
     no
you don't

so
     know this

this is why i rush you to leave
why i won't let you say "need"
     why i lock the door

this is why you DO want me more

          because i like you too much to break you
     and i'd hate to share with you my shadows

the worst part about people
whom understand nothing about themselves
     is their incessant need to pretend
as if they can see so clearly
through the dusty corners of each other's secrets

after enough ***
     i could fall in love with anyone

after enough whiskey
     i love myself too much to want to share