We will float together then sink
And everyone who told me a pond stone was nothing but a nuisance to open toes and hard boiled heads was nothing but the devil to me
Everyone who sinks becomes the foundation of those who rise
I don't need you to die and hover above me like a cloudy day
Bad weather bad coffee
My hand trembles and this
Sweater never keeps me warm
The shiver within my soul is all I'm concerned about
the white ghosts that sits on your fingertips never did you any better
All I get is dark blood and broken teeth
Ten missed calls and kisses to wipe off the salty lust of my ever present agony
Anyone who tells me that I'm **** can answer to the moss that thanklessly sits on the rocks who patiently wait for time to throw off its holey shoes and let the earth fall silent to its restless murmur
You've done me wonders soft Angeles
My toes weave throughout your docile grasp
While my stoic heart rests soundly beneath your cushioned palms
Sweltering and oozing, going numb then returning
All beneath the cusp of the delicate curls that nature brushes with her fine pearl comb
Anyone who says I'm doomed, done, hopeless, out of luck, out of time, out of ideas
Can answer to their own empty plates
I'm not giving out any answers
So you can fill the black void of your own cackles and despair
That are  better suited for the leaves that clench for dear life to the streets that have let them become a porridge of their own flakey guts
They smear across the roads indented forearms  like the boogers and black eyeliner smeared across your swollen lips
Dying for a finger to press them shut
Give them mercy
let them fall into a bland line
That the ticking clock can rest upon until it meets the shallow ridges of your rib cage sorrows
I'm listening
Humming beneath the manic sound of your quivers and heaves
I'm listening
To your story book hidden in the corner of a library floor kindred bodies go to rest their skeleton key fingers
theyll place them atop books that became the coffins for bodies now swimming in worms and the *** of their volatile passion that little have the right to coat their throats with but slurp up greedily regardless
One of them will unlock your beautiful brain
And I will be there
Resting amongst the pile of your hair
Sweaty and battered
The sunshine gleams upon you and god isn't a fox trap around my ankles
He's the circles of your eyes
And I'm ready to feel better