I'm driving
and i'm remembering
a dream I had
And you were there, and I was there
and I'm driving
driving on the dark, empty streets
(the city can't afford to keep the lights on)
And in my dream you came to bed with me
You kissed me
A honey kiss
Sticky & sweet, leaving your nectar on my lips
leaving me wishing I had more
And I'm driving, still.
remembering more things,
but they aren't that important
Nothing really feels important
Except you kissed me
that sweet surprise of a kiss
the kind of kiss in a French New Wave film
And i'm driving
And i'm remembering
It was just a dream.

what do you get out of thinking you're alright?
what do you dream in your room when it's late at night?
how do you feel, are you stuck in a
Déjà vu?
no, its not real
but I bet it's catching up to you.

I always felt like life was a beautiful
sad song
& if you hear me, I hope that you'll stay with me all night long
because I can't accept my loneliness,
I am my only friend
I just want to vanish to an iridescent land
life is such a beautiful sad song..

& I'll always be in some type of
love with you
I'll decide for myself what I want to do
taking the turnpike, sitting in sunny rooms
dead flowers in my head, yeah
flowers always in bloom

I'm the quiet one
& also the outspoken one.
I'm the "gets in arguments at bars with sexist men" one.
I'm paint splatters on a white wall.
I'm spilt glitter in the carpet.
I'm hopeful in the sense that everything has to work out,
but i'm not going to actually do anything about it.
I'm a lover. Maybe too much, even.
But you probably wouldn't see it in me.
I'm stand off-ish.
I think every car on the highway is going to hit me.
I spend hours watching crime show re-runs.
I think i'm a "manic pixie dream girl"
even though I ******* hate that phrase.
I'm a wino.
I'm paranoid.
I'm reckless.
I like to do drugs that take me out of my mind.
I'm the kind of person who keeps trinkets,
such as old love notes & my high school prom ticket.
I guess I'm a hoarder of sorts.
A hoarder of nostalgia.
I'm a dreamer.
I dream way too much.
I'm the one who holds on to the good memories
& pretends like they're still there, when they're not.
I'm clueless but i'm learning
(I read that somewhere)
I'm the one who watches a movie & afterwards
pretends i'm the main character.
I'm like sour milk.
I'm a jealous person at times.
I'm a good soup maker.
I'm an even better pen pal.
I'm not good with money,
but I am good at wasting it.
I'm really good at wasting things.
I'm a great party hostess, ask anyone.
I'm a record lover, a music lover really.
I'm the one who has a "Suicide song"
and jokes about it.
I'm offensive & blunt.
I curse too much,
but I think people kind of like it.
I'm somewhat of a narcissist.
why else would I still be writing about myself?
I'm a good person.
A solid gold oldie.
I'm the girl of your dreams if you want me to be.
I'm stubborn like my father, who was in a Italian mob,
or so he says.
Which reminds me,
I have "daddy issues"
(I also ******* hate that phrase)
I'll never tell my secrets.
I'm an interrupter.
God that must be annoying.
I bite my nails. Ever since I was a kid.
I look up plane tickets & Airbnb's for fun.
I'm teaching myself French.
I usually sleep until 1pm.
I'm the oldest child, yet need my mom the most.
I'm a collector,
But nothing of value.
I'm magazine clippings & unfinished projects.
I'm bad at remembering to take my medicine.
I'm impulsive.
I'm always on the run.
A girl with a plan.
Girl, uninterrupted.
I'm just me.
Whoever that really is.

When the weather changes
and it's finally September
I feel in love.
When the breeze is cool
everything is better
I feel in love.
When I can wear a beret or
don a favorite coat
I feel in love.
& when I sit down and read
something that you wrote
I feel in love.

I just saw an ad online
that said "House spiders the size of your hand
are invading UK homes
& looking for love"
and I couldn't help but
somewhat relate

tell me i'm pretty
tell me i'm dumb
tell me that i'm your only one
i sit at home and wait for you
i sit at home
now what do i do?

this beat on my brain
is what i'm used to
this noise in my nerve
it's sticky like glue
i think i know a thing, or two
i think i want to die with you