When I walked to the restroom
The way he smiled at me
Tore my soul to shreds
He looked like he won you, he smiled as a Victor. I trust you when you said you didn't have a backburner, but his smile, his smile still hurt.
Maybe your tongue could be my own
Maybe your teeth are the mirror I’ve been fearing this whole time
Maybe your mouth is where I want to hide forever
Or maybe I want to be trapped within your mind
Maybe I want to see you from the inside
Not hearing what you have to say
But really see you from the inside
In a Jonah sort of way
Maybe I want mine to be your body
Incessant movement where one cannot tell
Where you begin and where I end
Maybe I don’t want it to ever end
Maybe it scares me if it never ends
Will it never end? Or more importantly, will it even start?
If you think of a life with me, picture me with soap in my hair, bubbles lining the strands of my wet-with-sweat frizz.
Picture the tomato-sauce-stained plates with bits of pasta, scattered by the sink like the continents of the world when it should be just Pangea, one place, all neat.
Picture me holding the sponge, scrubbing the red out of the white plates we ate from.
I'll picture your arms wrapped around me, head resting on my shoulder, murmuring behind me that I smelled like sweat.
Picture me smiling at the honesty and then listen to me complain to you that we should get this done. WE.
I'll picture you rinsing after I told you to and I'll hear your whining about your tired arms and how you're impatient about feeling my lips on yours.
And then we hurry, we wash the dishes together and there is soap in my hair.
We wash our hands which go to each other's waist and then we pull closer and then your hand is on my face and the taste of your mouth is on my tongue.
And then we stop. We stare.
Picture that, PinkInk.
Let's do it again, Pinkink.
I don't want no more
I don't want no more
in - ferno.
Once upon a time I
held dreams as close
as I went on
to hold smoke
in my lungs --
I don't want no more.
Yes: maybe Davey is right.
Which edge is the knife's edge and
which edge is. . .
Which edge is which?
Yes: maybe my Davey is right.
the best of all intention.
My sleep's been in detention.
Maybe taking the easy downer. . .
the easy upper. . .
I'll take back
i'm in a 9 day fall
from the stratosphere.
i'll make it.
this feeling that thrives
neither dead nor alive
is not something
to be taken lightly,
a cardinal sin
with no near end
begins, and there is
for you and yours.
this feeling is different,
mostly if you let it,
like scraping down
the side of an
towards some other
within the realm
where has sense gone? where does it thrive? is it breathing? is it alive?
I kinda really don’t want to be,
But probably maybe should be,
Slightly considering possibly,
Going to work out in the gym.
I know I actually ought to be,
But sincerely don’t think should be,
Contemplating eventually thinking about,
Reading that book on my shelf.
I just don’t want to think to be,
Partially doubting I could be,
Theoretically almost clumsily,
Trying to somehow be myself.
Everyone has something they almost kinda don’t really somehow eventually might want to sometimes possibly do.
Maybe you will wake up one day and feel this way too
Maybe you won't
Maybe you will wake up one day and think about my smile first thing
Maybe you won't
Maybe you will wake up one day and all you will hear is my laugh on repeat
Maybe you won't
Maybe you will wake up one day and think about how you wish it was me
But you probably won't
I liked that night, we were flying
As the black cloaked your stars, you had your eyes closed
Sleep-deprived and half dead I thought of loving you
It seemed foolish
On the ground, it felt dizzy
like you spun me around
Friendly smiles were small
Everything was so dead I didn’t think of you
I don’t know the day where I thought of it as more
It wasn’t a day but a memory, a rememory
The buttons were pushed before I was ready
Anxiously I worked and worked and acted like your honey didn’t matter to me
It didn’t, I convince myself even now
But the moment came in capitals
You thought I was unattainable
The breaks were pressed by those closest
Of course they were, it’s what they’re there for
I waited and waited and waited and I got tiny answers
I got fragments, particles, portions
I never got it all
I still don’t have it all
Is this you
Is this my body?
Worse, is it my mind
Tell me now, if I ask too much
Tell me now, if communication won’t be our thing
Tell me now If we won’t be our own thing
But just tell me
Tell me anything
Because I need to be told
We are the teens who jump to conclusions who smash beer in the street, walk fast and try to soothe ourselves with ***** water
We are the teens who cry for a song feeling alone but surrounded by people
Who replace hurt with *** and hide our pain by waiting until maybe finally something good happens
We are the teens who go home every day and miss everyone who made our life worth living
We are the loud *** teens who smoke and drink and get 100s on tests and love themselves and are happy about it
We are the teens who get gelato and are homies with our host families and jump in with our clothes on
We are the teens who look at the waves and the height and think the wind blowing is beautiful
We are the teens who overuse the word love because we lack it in our lives
We are the teens who have to give it to each other because maybe not everyone loves us the way we want them to
Maybe that’s why we don’t love the people who want us to