Junkyards are cemeteries too
they're just the ones no one brings flowers to
or visits after they've said goodbye
and they are filled to the brim
with forgotten wheels and empty bodies
and I am sick of these wheelbarrow operations
and the way the mice eyes sparkle
as they wait by the mailboxes
that don't even belong to them
for love letters from the cats that will never come
because when she said "I love you"
it was a junkyard kind of goodbye that she meant

I hope you're smart
and that when you find a nice girl
you treat her with respect
and loyalty
and give her nothing but love
but I hope you make mistakes
and that when you find a nice girl
you forget to call when you said you would
and ditch her for a party
and give her something to get mad about
because
I hope you end up a better man

sorry I lied when I said all I want to do is sleep

I haven’t slept in weeks

That’s a lie too of course

I put in an hour or two inbetween

Lying on the floor or in the tub

I hate the cold

But I didn’t used to

And that isn’t romantic

But things do change

Like the way the stars align and how I perceive death

And how I haven’t met my match

The late night is a song with synths

And the moon sings dream pop songs

About love and rest and the gaping holes planted in the sea

What does that even mean?

When it’s 3am you’re in tune with everything