I’m anxious and I can’t keep my summersalt garbage disposal from continuing it’s cycle. Stuck on repeat like the sound of a plum pit caught between the spinning blades, God they look maniacal. It’s more of a grinding kind of clatter, peanut butter hands pitter patter, some things never really matter.
Partners turned enemies turned frenemies turned long lost soul mates who never were meant to be-
You never know what you got until it finally walks out the door. And thank god for that ******* door-
If I hadn’t of walked the tightrope so clumsily maybe my peanut butter fingers would have, should have, could have grabbed a little bit better omit the fumbling…but I just kept stumbling-
I honestly thought I was going to die here in this trailer, this **** double wide modular hell of mine,
We stick ourselves in mud sometimes, Mud so thick it creates specific life lines. You can actually see your personal timeline-
That timeline has been looking like the color of ****. Well **** me sideways ain’t life a ******* *****-
****** ***** low down ******* skunt. Skinned knees ***** breeze I felt this old home giving me a breathless squeeze-
It squeezed me so hard I hit reality, reached up and snatched actuality with a left hook of formality equalling life’s gain of destined brutality-
I moved mountains harder than I’ve ever ****** any man. It was one swift move of ballsy rhetoric but I had to sell my soul for a compromise and a date just to get my hands on the blue prints for the master plan-
You see everyone is someone else’s ******. I’m on a chain, a noose, a shock collar and this filthy serenade is for the shot caller-
Someday I’ll cut those chains but most likely by the time I’m equipped I’ll have lost those better days-
You learn to live on less by biding time, by sweeping by, just keeping your heart above water and your head leaking dry. I remember my partner turned enemy, turned frenemy, that long lost soul mate who just was never meant to be….
I dyed to dream the colors that deemed
Sometimes when I'm in public settings I swear I can hear people screaming as loud as a sonic boom for me to ask about things they have hidden so deep beneath their skin their skeletons have run out of closets to hide in.
Except those people are empty. Sure they want you to know them, however they have no sincere intentions on ever getting to know you. So I walk past without so much as offering even a nod, but they scream louder and I'm forced to back track, and slowly I slip my skeleton key perfectly in.
As a child I would eat crayons and then purge oceans onto paper.
The first time our lips met my stomach immediately went into effect
Infectious, serious, god you made me feel delicious and delirious
It was the missing muchness it both touched us, I haven't wanted to run out of too much of us
So much of it, hearts skipping beats throbbing to this new beat, you swept me off my feet but I knew eventually you'd leave
I eat and purge my relationships like a pro bulimic. I have a unique gift of attracting the most broken of individuals, truly an extremist.
Crazy, violent, addicted, on the run, think they are moon babies banished to live on the sun, AND always saying, “Hey baby you’re my number one". AND even though I know better than to ride on the coattails of crazy, I convince myself I’m actually a someone to anyone. Like I give a ****. So then what’s the ******' hang up?