With beaten sails we take to a south wind,
Letting lifted air carry our hearts
Towards something closer to love.
Rose petals fall from ivy-covered walls
Her smile shines like Sirius
I can’t help but smile back
The gravitationality of it all
We can get ****** and drive thru a Krispy Crème
Glazed doughnuts in our eyes and maybe laugh for the first time in ever
I cannot tell how long that’s been
The days get shorter and the leaves fall like soldiers
Sky hums cobalt in a winter coat,
There will come a time where I will call and you won’t answer
Was einst war, ist nun tot
I keep pulling from the green days and you stare
starry eyed at
Cubic Zirconia on Sunset Boulevard
As we bid bon voyage
Drifting Kuiper belt objects
Parsecs away.
The pulp turns to mush in spring and pigs feast on the ****
I have to get away or get swallowed by swords
You tell me it’s the only way
I smell burnt treads
Your sweat lingers on the nose differently
And your face turns in anger
I’m too tired to try and talk anything out of it.
A toad flops through the backyard mud
And I think of a time when this was swampland
And getting to work meant
Bringing a machete
To dice your way through old paper trails.
It’s okay.
The road is meant for old shoes
And high heels have no tact on gravel.
I will break the rubber under my footfalls
searching for it.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
With beaten sails we take to a south wind,
Letting lifted air carry our hearts
Towards something closer to love.
Rose petals fall from ivy-covered walls
Her smile shines like Sirius
I can’t help but smile back
The gravitationality of it all
We can get ****** and drive thru a Krispy Crème
Glazed doughnuts in our eyes and maybe laugh for the first time in ever
I cannot tell how long that’s been
The days get shorter and the leaves fall like soldiers
Sky hums cobalt in a winter coat,
There will come a time where I will call and you won’t answer
Was einst war, ist nun tot
I keep pulling from the green days and you stare
starry eyed at
Cubic Zirconia on Sunset Boulevard
As we bid bon voyage
Drifting Kuiper belt objects
Parsecs away.
The pulp turns to mush in spring and pigs feast on the ****
I have to get away or get swallowed by swords
You tell me it’s the only way
I smell burnt treads
Your sweat lingers on the nose differently
And your face turns in anger
I’m too tired to try and talk anything out of it.
A toad flops through the backyard mud
And I think of a time when this was swampland
And getting to work meant
Bringing a machete
To dice your way through old paper trails.
It’s okay.
The road is meant for old shoes
And high heels have no tact on gravel.
I will break the rubber under my footfalls
searching for it.
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