I had a dream a few weeks ago.
Check it out.

Somewhere,
in the middle of the astral plane,
I met the Sun.
I couldn't see his face,
for it was too beautiful for my caterpillar eyes to see.
He told me that he knew,
the angel I sold my soul too,
5 years and 155 days ago.
**** gets better,
someday keep that nice thought <3
cause
he tossed me a bag of magic star dust
and said use it well.
I plan too.
Double "o"
cause Bandit & The Love Cult is a
2-way street.
Respectively.
My poems for you.
Until then,
I'm just
biding my time,
biting my tongue,
waiting tables,
waiting on fate,
wondering when they're going to
hit a ***** up.
Patiently waiting in every way.
Until my magic is done
baking like a stoner.
Just believe in your
butter-fly hearts
that the suffering is almost over.
Patience is an art, just like poetry.
If you time travel
on the wishing well's schedule,
**** will get better.

"And what my therapist says, is,
she says she thinks you're
****** up, too."

"Well that's great. I'm glad
she didn't bring you up."

"She didn't. And maybe that's why
she didn't
**** Me Up, either."

I don't use paper and pencil now.
My thoughts are too fleeting
to subscribe
to anything but a "delete" key.

I promised that I wouldn't write another poem about her
Except just this last one
Where sun shines around you
As I look up from the grass
It smelled like weeds and summer and dirt
Grease from working on your dads truck

I never touched one of his tools

But something about warm finger tips
Makes me lose electrical control
Feet up on the dashboard
With the doors open
And every star ever invented in the sky

Even in sleep,
She is beautiful.

Let her be, Sandor
Says, let’s go drink

And play cards and
Listen to some jazz.

She resembles some
Goddess lying there,

You muse, leaving
Behind Sandor,

Looking back at
Her with her eyes

Closed, her hand
On her breast, there

At rest. Wish I could
Be that hand, you

Inward say, watching
The shadows from

The moon’s shift play
On her cheek and skin.

Sandor pours white
Wine and puts down

The cards; there is cool
Jazz on the gramophone

And she is lying there
Without you, sleeping,

Dreaming, and all alone.

Yeah, yeah your beautiful
And you smell like flowers but
She's all I think of


When you sit with me at sunset
And everything you say is perfectly scripted
As if your mouth was a t.v screen
Im not listening because I want to hear her sing

When we went to the fair
The lights were bright
You hugged my arm against the cool wind bite
But I can still feel her fingers between mine

When you try to act so smooth
Each date I have to scrape through
Looking in eyes that crack and crumble
You kiss him heavy as the thunder rumbles

She forgets about those oceans
Frozen solid
And how we laughed and slid
On the glassy surface
How you unfolded your blanket
How you folded your hands
How the sky was blue
How you smiled
How I fall asleep
With the wrong arms wrapped around me
Night after night