Passenger seat canary Jeans in 40 degrees, out to the rock wall downpour, Shaq soda, ephemeral lyrics and a deteriorating weekend when I'm meant to see you i may sleep in
Laundry detergent shoe gaze averted to the scintillating ceiling imposer supernovas feelings frayed like a grad dress hem two inches became an ocean apart complacent as I am I flagellate again
Play dumb act smart school bus pant-less cocktail of prank calls and parental figures you'll push me mungo, to the brink but it makes you grin I hope it sticks
static voices through the speaker our monitors are beacons guiding us through schooldays to each and every weekend hack smoke crack jokes art room artifice & insubordination I'll retrogress
A few streets from laughing fits pine wood guidance's park land Midas's hills consume hours as insects do our blood parents expect you home but I'll stay at the lots
maybe some day we’ll get the courage to tell the people we love how we feel but that day is not today still- there’s this danger that tomorrow may never come that there are too many things we leave on the side and save for a rainy day that we push onto a shelf and bookmark for later and the words never come pouring out but stay quiet and hidden in the dark and maybe it’s for the best but then we never realize that these words could have meant something to someone that maybe they could’ve changed one thing a little thing that meant a whole lot that maybe they just needed a little push an ounce of support a single word to lift the load day by day and maybe we should have taken the words off the shelf and given them away day by day left little bits and pieces on tabletops and car windows on seat cushions and blankets on television screens and corkboards on billboards on the way to work and traffic signs on the way home on arms and hands and cheeks and chests things that accumulated day by day and made someone feel a little less heavy and a whole lot more loved but the truth is every day goes from hours till dark to minutes to seconds to moments that drift away and slip off our fingers and before we know it the sun has set the lights have gone out the birds have gone to sleep and the moment has past “there’s always tomorrow” we say but what if the load gets too heavy? what if it breaks their back? what if everything comes crashing down a little too soon and it won’t take a little word to fix it? what if you open up the jar on the shelf and find that the words you’ve saved up are no longer enough? what then? what then