Frankie Cosmos at 1am.

Maybe more like the old place.
Wouldn't have any.
Make of it.
Staying weary.
Within.
Running out.
Of the kitchen in your skin.
Till you faint.
Talk it more.
Said in utter incomplete.
But stay awake.

Garrett Johnson.

Let it, I know

Put it mostly, as if I care.
I make the time....Timely.
Nevermind.
Off center of void.
Alright I feel annoyed.
Hey...
Hi.
Like it's not.
Like I'm not.
Fine.

Garrett Johnson

The wayy she smiles.

Sputter out of controlling remorse, taken all of his energy.
Notably chalk.
That waits in his knee.
But then you sneeze.
Mostly realize.
That you've got it all.
And none in a hug that was in the fall.

Garrett Johnson.

No reason until.

Reassured and measured.
You take off your buttoned shirt.
Smothered in dead dye.
Left confined, smiling, once.
A murmur.
No place.
Left wanted.
All streaming in haunting.
Let go.
As the back of candles remember, the brain that coursed in
The drip.
The flow.
The pit.
In the stomach.
Just, still.


Garrett Johnson

Photo of a street in the Mountains and thanks.

Maybe last.
In anxiety... purpose.
Pending in leaves made.
From you.


Garrett Johnson.

Anyways on the walk to your house.

Twice in the hall.
Lose it.
Felt like permanent.
Scold.
Grass keeps the air cool, like matte.
Perhaps crawl.
So enthralled.
Liking it, lose it all again.
Over.
A corpse chiming with ideas.
Chiming only to finest, hideous.
Hideous.
More hideous.


Garrett Johnson.

John David Washington Ave.

Suspended.
It tastes like violet.
Cloudy.
Renaissance and headed towards.
The Maxine.
Mountain only spitting globes.
Of parted jacket.
Faulty.
Leaving electric glass behind.
Though it's eyes.
No weaving of inner fuchsia.
Collected, only slept in yesterday's clothes.

Garrett Johnson.