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You do you and I’ll do me; but if you do me I’ll do you one better. I’ll set you free or buy you a sweater or some other **** I think you’d like. Maybe I’ll just keep sitting here on this oversized armchair next to Jer, and continue wondering what you are up to, what you are thinking, how many blinks you are blinking, how often your neurons are linking. I’m thinking, and I’m thinking, but still the numbers don't add up. I'm sinking and shrinking and I’m getting real fed up with feeding the schlupp inside my chest with pinings for you; for the way you look in my favorite dress, for the way you find beauty in every mess, for the way you should be here and not there, or I the reverse, but you’re there and I’m here and it feels like I’m cursed, like I'm Jesus Christ left in the manger to die of thirst and exposure. Im a twenty-year-dead motor struggling to turn over, or maybe just a dude with a storm in his head that’s getting steadily older and rapidly sober, who's missing a shoulder to press against, and lacking defense against A soul that grows perpetually colder.
0
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
--Hunger Pains--
You do you and I’ll do me; but if you do me I’ll do you one better. I’ll set you free or buy you a sweater or some other **** I think you’d like. Maybe I’ll just keep sitting here on this oversized armchair next to Jer, and continue wondering what you are up to, what you are thinking, how many blinks you are blinking, how often your neurons are linking. I’m thinking, and I’m thinking, but still the numbers don't add up. I'm sinking and shrinking and I’m getting real fed up with feeding the schlupp inside my chest with pinings for you; for the way you look in my favorite dress, for the way you find beauty in every mess, for the way you should be here and not there, or I the reverse, but you’re there and I’m here and it feels like I’m cursed, like I'm Jesus Christ left in the manger to die of thirst and exposure. Im a twenty-year-dead motor struggling to turn over, or maybe just a dude with a storm in his head that’s getting steadily older and rapidly sober, who's missing a shoulder to press against, and lacking defense against A soul that grows perpetually colder.
mike-bergeron
Written by
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
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