the only reason she wanted to see you
was so that she could dance in the streets.
she wanted to live forever,
breathing through her nose,
too fat to see her toes.

that's why she was always home,
she was busy eating your weight in butter creams.

she stared at the painting for hours,
wondering why it tried so hard to be serious,
she had spent her life trying to do the opposite,
it was as if they belonged together.

she laughed at the men
with their hands in pots,
and frowns on their faces.

her favorite was the one washing the plate,
he looked so happy with that rag
she wanted them to be wrestlers,
so she could feel adrenaline like she used to,
but she was always asleep when the stars came out,

so she just keeps dreaming.

I want to melt into the speakers
dance in the fibers of the fabric
that layers the plastic,
like a small child would with make-up
at the age of seven,
there's no such thing as too much,

Never a chance to remember,
all the time in the world to forget,
everything is perfectly fast:
in the moment.

Imagine living like that,
the sting of a bee on a young girls foot,
the screams
and the tears running down her confused face,
her eyes ask questions to the sky,
to her foot,
to the crushed remains of what caused her so much pain.

Then,
the kiss of a freshly peeled band-aid,
almost as soft as a mothers kiss,
almost as soothing as her cold hand on your forehead,
almost as sweet as the lullaby she would sing before you'd drift.

Always trying to fall asleep with your eyes open,
trying to catch every last inch of the sky,
counting the stars through the ceiling,
slowly falling asleep
without even realizing:
you're waking up.

I would love to find someone with the same stack of books on their bed-side table,
the ones they should be reading, but never do,
they're just too busy,
and they keep buying more,
adding to the stack.

I wouldn't mind drinking tea from a jar everyday,
the kind that you'd set in the sun to soak the day away.
I'd watch you from the window,
you'd smile and wave,
******* kisses,
the kisses that made me feel ***** when I woke up.

I would watch you fold the laundry
with your delicate hands,
all the time wishing you were folding me,
not caring about the neighbors,
or that the blinds were open.

I wouldn't dare give away those books,
the ones that we read together,
but I'd sell the ones you let me borrow that I never read,
I'll stuff them in my backpack and sell them for a buck a piece,
I bet you'll be sorry you left,
when you're missing those books,
those quotes,
I'll bet you'll be sorry,
when you're missing me.

I was riding home in the car with my child,
coming home from what seemed to be a robbery.
The air blowing on my face kept jumping temperatures,
I didn't mind it, except it made me sweat on my favourite shirt.
My mom kept trying to start conversations with me,
but I was too busy imagining beautiful boys in the cars that passed us.
I started to drift off as the car sped up (I'm pretty sure she had to ***),
I felt like the car was a bullet, and I was inside of it,
the road was like sand, and we were riding it like we knew it's name.
It seems like only seconds ago,
but now I am sitting in the remains of a good night,
wondering,
when will they wake up?

I'm in love with a balloon
who's always confused
we blew him up with our mouths
so he just rolls around the floor
I used to think we were good friends
but when I left he stayed
I tried to keep in contact
but he never had anything to say
I knew the weeks would pass
and he would slowly decay
but I still can't help but miss him
Francios was his name

The woman on the corner forgot to shave her legs,
but  men are only interested in  soft women,
inside and out.
She couldn't  go home, or call,
because she didn't have a phone.
So she sat on the corner
with nothing to keep her warm
except the hair on her legs.

A man walked by who wanted her service,
he had a bag of lemons and an old watch,
she noticed he was wearing shorts,
the amount of  hair on his legs made her feel better.

you always said smoking would **** me,
but I never knew you meant it would be karma for stealing cigarettes from my mom.
I cut the pizza into thin pieces,
so I wouldn't feel bad when I said I ate three.
I was going to rhyme home with phone, but they don't rhyme,
and I was going to quote some famous person,
but I don't know any famous people,
so I couldn't ask permission.

Last night, you said you would call,
but you didn't.
I feel fine because I didn't feel like talking anyway.

So, uhh, when you get this,
just know I called because I knew you were gonna call,
and I wanted you to know I'm not mad.

ok, bye.