teenage dreams begin in the backseat.
fantasy and reality colliding among the crumbs pressed into seams.
frantic fingers roam the skin of the angel
who has given up her body for the sake of gratification,
and lips linger in the purple hues that ruin porcelain skin.
the capsule containing the burst of pleasure disappears the deeper they fall,
and eyes glaze over,
windows following suit as the world outside is lost to the fog.
moments of clarity intrude,
letting sounds of joyful times slip through.
intense heat swoops back in to suffocate the joy
and reminds them
rouged cheeks await his lit eyes.
passion follows them through their journey across the sea of the backseat,
guiding them to their final destination of a complete release.

What is wrong with me?
There is something inside my chest,
an emotion is about to explode.
There is a painted curve on my lips,
a joy that i cant hide.
There are words inside my head,
so poetic i cant contain.
What is wrong with me to feel this way in every words you sent.
What is wrong with me that made me feel giddy looking in just a photo of you.
Tell me what is wrong with me to stupidly be trapped in the gladness you bring.
Gosh! You made feel so crazy!
What did you do to me!!
I fell on a pit of happiness that you made.
What the heck is wrong with you to make me feel this kind of way,
to have so much affects on me.
You're like... you're like my
Happy Pills.