Untying my shoes Is a ritual Where I bake my cement And stick my hand in it Maybe someday A detective will come To investigate my death And find my fingerprints Trace my blood back To the bedroom where I sit Listening to indie music From my own lungs Twisted in the sheets Hanging from the ceiling Like an athletic ****** angel And mayhap If I'm lucky My body will end up In some museum Where lavendar doesn't Know how to burn I can read me to sleep And I'll have witches In my dreams They can cast hexes on me So pedestriannly I will swing Like a demon From your sewing machine I'll sing at the screening Like a rogue banshee When they lay me down For my eternal sleep I'll put my fingers up Just the two In a farewell salute Before I'm nailed in To meet all my new friends They might eat my eyes But they're still better than you
I don't know what the everloving **** this is other than a massive mood.
Tipsy daze were just foreplay for the passionate midnight sexcapades.
Every Sunday Drinking champaign, Not practicing self-restraint Sneaking into privet estates Dive into the grotto pool.
My late night wicked pagan lover, Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark. We were nympholepts in retrospect.
All clinquant, in gold light But turned to heathens, in the night.
Dancing in rhythmic eruptions of fevered delight. Wondering eyes are tantalized You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified. I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style. A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohh but of corse -You had a Porsche.
it's been a circus blur a whirlwind of uncertainty smothers me with unfamiliarity vintage friends have become foreign territory been burning incense for some clarity just hoping to find a little prosperity