People are either obscenely early, or baffling late. Yes, they tend to forget. About you.
Bury your sorrows in debt. Be alone, usually. Your words spill out like a pornographic goremance. You are redder than blood, and hotter than breath.
Smoking outside and in, we crafted a shelter out of bare bones and sad songs. Sadly they couldn't cut sharply or hardly enough to get through every load of *******.
It’s as if the room is in shock Filled with minds that spoke and pipe dream feelings I’d rather be in the dark than expecting and needing I’ll say I love you today And I’ll miss you tomorrow But bring your words back to your lips, chew, and swallow.
When it's October 12th- When it's a sunny Sunday afternoon In the fall When you're curled up in your comfiest sweater Next to a purring cat curled up in his And you sit in front of the bay windows of your home Watching the clouds and cars and wind roll by Carrying burning yellow leaves In the updrafts.
When you want something, but you don't know what. Maybe it's a want to want, misplaced in hopes of filling the ever-present void in you. Maybe it's happiness.
Lit me up, yes he did, in colour, all shinny, smile up, in collar. So he did, lit me up, hanged up, candle tree! Short circuit, he flashed, end of war.