Maybe he pumped up on drugs,
but Cash never went to prison,
so what else is a lie when we
write songs that sound beautiful
and mean nothing?


Your loose clothing, strings
falling off your shoulders,
and dying plants.
Tight on the hips,
this room is full of garbage
&
I’m abandoning it in
a few weeks anyways.

I need someone to eat
all of my sins and make me
clean again, if only for
the weekend.