"spotify" poems
Chainsmoking menthols,
creating clouds on parade.
Living in the dark;
frenching hurt that I've made.
There's a sadness in my comfort
and a comfort in my sadness.
*** fame, ******* down
commercialized madness.
I don't dream of pornstars
as much as I dream of clothes.
Videogames to escape it all,
carbon monoxide through my nose.
Too good for this and that;
entitlement at an all-time high.
Doing television to help me live,
or maybe to help me die.
Spotify for the masses
beating in my brain.
Youtube and pornhub
to make me feel the same
as the lost I compare to myself
and the celebs I want to be.
I want to be on edge, rich, validated;
I want to live in a fractured harmony.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 1:51 AM UTC
My work day woke to Monk,
the click of typing keys,
clock watched, Spotify playing,
random thoughts rose like bees
to freeze in these jagged lines,
then swarm in threatening flight.
Hours of data entry later,
on a stool, in a bar, a clock's
hands tock, I flick a wrist,
and slur my words concluding
an anguished monologue,
“They call it work, you know.”
Awash at home, in the strobe of
pixelated panel light,
visions surge and dissipate
with the pulse of the night. Osip,
were you tempered to embrace
attention’s fugitive caress?
You etched memory’s texture
with candle soot for ink,
and the gulag’s blackened gaze -
I type lines by hunt and peck
humming Monk’s WELL YOU NEEDN’T,
hoping for an adequate phrase.
Copyright © 2004 Gary Brocks
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:38 PM UTC
So it is my birthday today
Though this day i feel no different than normal
Perhaps a little sad
As yesterday i had a bit of a conflict
But I won't let this person have control over my birthday
Today is supposed to be special
Though most things have gone wrong
I forgot my coffee this morning
And Spotify gave me the worst songs on my playlist
Still, today is my birthday
I am sixteen
It is a time to celebrate the sixteen years i have been struggling along
Tomorrow will be the same as yesterday
And today will be the only
I think of my favorite flowers
Red columbine, clematis, water lily
Trembling, mental beauty, tranquility
I think that if someone gave me a clematis today
I would cry and preserve it forever
I'd like to hide away
And sit with my poetry
And cup of coffee
Writing about the beauty of the world
That I cannot see
Feb 23, 2022
Feb 23, 2022 at 10:05 AM UTC
Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier
I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton
You're right. It's totally her ***
Ugly Faces - Watsky
Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything
Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion
Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX
Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement
I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted
Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
*To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords*
I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
*You Don't Have To Be A ********** - Flight Of The Concords*
You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons
No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table
Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit
Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok
I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.
That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa
**** you spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go
Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto
No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona
I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo
That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers
Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.
I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie
Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
'Do you want to go to a club?' he asked her.
She nodded and might even have smiled
He couldn't tell from
The gloom of her smartphone.
The club had a band and they played all the night
While she was playing Zombie Fight
The crowd got too crazy, and soon went to rush
While she was playing Candy Crush.
Her boyfriend got bored and went for a look
While she was checking her Facebook
He met a girl and he did the deed
While she was checking her Twitter feed.
She went to find him, looked up at the band
Wanted a member to hold by the hand
But they were all taken by girls who could try
While this girl just looked down and checked Spotify.
On the way home she saw a lady
On a Youtube vid' called 'What you've all paid me.'
The people who watch her all make her life good
Be like her? The girl wished that she could.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
I never knew
that the sound of those raindrops
on my window
the scent of wet soil
after rain
the melodies of these songs
on my spotify playlist
could remind me of you
remind me of the sound of
your lovely laughter
remind me of the scent of
your sweet perfume
remind me of the sound of
your sleepy voice
— I never knew
that missing you
could be this tough.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
When that song comes
I think of you
I think of those green eyes staring right back at me
I know you don’t like it when I talk about your eyes cause I know you want to be known as you and not with those eyes
I know that when you stared at the wall behind me
You think of her
The song was playing and you were thinking of her
And you told me you were sad
I asked why and you didn’t respond
Why did I even ask you that when I know the answer
Maybe this whole thing is an assumption so that I can get you out my mind
This isn’t poetry!
I keep thinking about how distant you got
I don’t want these feelings
I don’t want to care
I hate how much I randomly think of you cause texting you before we slept together was already a habit
A routine that you made me do
But I’m always reminded about what a genuine person you truly are
As the time goes by I’ve been diving into my responsibilities just to get
You
Out
Of
My
System.
This is why I press skip when the song starts playing on my Spotify
Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 5:14 AM UTC
Tuesday night Adderall highs
Strung out on sleepless Spotify
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
I Blink 182 times,
Can I Handle This
This is the Sum of 41 reasons I won't smile this holiday
I'm feeling like I may Fall Out, Boy do I hate thinking about who's buying your presents this year.
It's weird how this holiday season is always a new All Time Low
**** this place. I would much rather Walk The Moon fixin for something that warms my heart again. So I hold it in my hands and breathe.
And I Imagine Dragons breathing fire onto my skin, maybe someone will call me hot.
Maybe Someone will Hear Me.
I sit on my Front Porch Step Aware of the Mayday Parade that marches down my spine and I forget how to walk.
How to talk
how to breathe as I Panic! At the disco music that you seem to really like.
You are memories of a ride in a Death Cab
For Cutie I Will Follow You Into The Dark.
If I'm not already there.
And I will Parachute into Owl City and lie in your bed that is a Passion Pit.
It entramps me and keeps me hostage and I hate what your sheets feel like.
You make me think that love is Of Monsters and Men and that women don't feel that word.
You have killed me a thousand times,
Queen
of ******* over the things I have planned.
We are My Chemical Romance a toxic ******** life threatining carcinogen trying to **** me.
But this is Kinda Punkish I Guess and again I have my playlist.
That sounds like you but it saves me and doesn't **** me.
Here's a Simple Plan this holiday. Leave me the **** alone this year.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
While I return and slow down
to the classics;
the film analog cameras,
vinyl records,
typewriters,
silent movies,
worn-out pocketbooks,
and other novelties
of the old world charm...
I also enjoy the convenience
of the contemporary;
my phone's one-click camera,
spotify premium,
notes app,
netflix,
kindle,
and other niceties
that the here and now has to offer...
And while I rev back
to the retro and vintage,
I also race forward
to the excitement and danger
brought about by the internet,
of chatting with a familiar stranger.
of exchanging laughters in electronic.
of feeling emotions from a vague, distant, technical, difficult source.
Oh, the thrill and tragedy of technology!
May 7, 2022
May 7, 2022 at 8:22 AM UTC
Here I am, the manic pixie dream girl of, you guessed it; your dreams. I am here to ask you questions about your boring, probably something generic, major like business or management or maybe even some type of art form that no one really knew existed until you decided to bring it to your high school and of course the liberal arts school of your dreams has that EXACT program and all the means to support it financially. Of course, I will always ask about you. How your day is, how your plain black coffee is, what you thought of that one song that played as we were walking into the train after a date that both of us probably went on looking to get laid. But in the end, it will always be you. I will continue to fluff your deflated ego that was caused as such by some hollywood trope from your hometown like a cheerleader or maybe even someone who was on AV Club with you, who really knows, because I sure as hell don’t care to do any research into it. Now, part of being your early to mid-twenties manic pixie dream girl, it is essential for us to bond over old broken up bands that neither one of us were actually alive to see perform yet that dream of ours is still so prevalent as we make conversations over whiskey you assume I like because of it’s pretentious name that you will describe as “harsh yet creamy, dry but sweet” and on bad nights I will tell you that it tastes like the back of my father’s hand and you will laugh at a joke I did not intend to tell but then again I will have to ask you what is so funny. I will always be the one asking you about a life I am so willing to leave without even meeting your family. Being a manic pixie dream girl is all fun and games until I am the one always doing the starting of conversations, until I am the one sending you Spotify playlists that I know you will never listen to, until I am the one showing up unannounced. My name will roll off your tongue like smoke from your American Spirits, but only in the beginning, because by the end; you will cough when I finally tell you to stop calling me.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 5:14 PM UTC
I wake up on a yogibo. It's comfy, but,
I'm in what is now just
My room.
It feels empty.
All the clutter
That made it look lived in
Is in the three empty
Sock and underwear drawers
That used to be:
Hers.
All the pictures of us
and half the nerdy posters
were removed from the walls.
Half of the games,
movies,
books,
Magic the Gathering cards,
Are all gone, so the shelves look bare.
Half the closet is empty.
I walk into the hallway and pass three doors
The first door leads to a bathroom,
The second a closet.
The third is what I now call a "guest bedroom".
The only things in it are an
Empty dresser covered in
Princess stickers...
And a bed frame.
I try not to leave that door open.
Go Down stairs
Sink into car,
Turn on Spotify
Crank the volume to 24
So I can't hear my own thoughts.
Drive to work.
Belt all of the lyrics and jam to "The one" and "Whoa whoa whoa" and "sloppy seconds".
By Watsky.
Clock in,
Apron up,
Shout: "Morning, family!"
How am I doing? "I'm awesome! how are you?"
How am I doing? "I'm wonderful! what brings you to freeport?"
How am I doing? "I'm fantastic, peak or dark roast?"
How's my daughter?
"Well actually... I
Broke up with her mom
And I
...
Wasn't the biological father
so I don't get to see her anymore.
My manager said that customers are getting
Uncomfortable around me
because I am too open so that's the
Scripted version I have to tell you."
Even though I'd love to tell you
that I don't know how she's doing,
and it kills me.
How I told her mom that even though she didn't have any
Compassion left for me,
And she lied to me,
Tortured me more than any human
on this earth and was slowly draining the
Life and sanity out of my body
like a leech, that I
Knew what I was signing up for
when I started to call myself
Daddy.
That I was leaving her,
so we could both get
Better, but I was not leaving that little girl.
And if she would let me
Love her, or
Watch her, or
Buy her birthday presents,
I would,
because she was the best thing to ever happen to me.
when you ask me how she's doing
All I can think about
is how I earned that first "I
love you,
dada."
How I made her laugh more times than her
Mother made her
Cry. How I tucked her in
and she made me read her
"Oh The Places You'll Go", over and
Over and
Over.
Screaming when I said she'd go
On through the hakken kraks howl, and
Giggling when I said she'd move mountains.
I raised her for three years and she called me
Daddy.
But her mother said
that because I wasn't the biological father
I don't have any right to see her.
"How am I doing? I'm awesome."
"How am I doing? I'm wonderful."
"How am I doing? I'm waking up."
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 4:20 AM UTC
Collaborate on a spotify playlist that will play on shuffle in my casket after I go.
I want you to add songs you want me to feel the radio signals of.
We know we feel music with a fifth sense,
A full body ASMR tingle
Whispers of russian woman fixing our robot parts.
Well I can't hear you, speak, move or eat
But bones vibrate to soundwaves just the same.
Give my casket the best **** bass you can find.
Bass that will wake the dead.
Rattle me like an instrument the way you plucked strigs while we were alive
You have control over what i hear after I go
So you may play me music beautiful as we played in the space between our fingertips
Play spotify in my casket
Only you and those i trust have access to adding songs.
But don't add garbage music.
Because I swear, I will haunt you.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
We never listen to albums from beginning to end anymore.
Thanks, Spotify.
Sorry for sinning, Taylor Swift.
And I guess there is an owed apology to ACDC and the Beatles because you aren't on there either.
But guess what.
Today I actually listened to an old favorite from beginning to end.
(not you guys though)
Good News for People Who Love Bad News.
Every song. In order. And it threw me back to ninth grade,
Faster than even my favorite photograph could.
The lyrics made me scream them and the even the (three) interludes made me smile.
And you're right, Taylor,
It was a work of art.
Good thing it was nearly free
(99 cents for three months)
Or else my morning would have not have passed so swiftly. Or so modestly.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
I have a theory.
My theory is about frailty. Moments of frailty. Being fragile to the core that it shakes you to your bones. Being weak and standing up on your own just scares the hell out of you. Despite all these, you try to keep the one thing that keeps your weaknesses intact and in one place. It is hidden inside their throats and at the palm of their hands, at their neck and behind their ears. It is sitting in their lungs, begging for escape but longing for the hold. Flaunt and retire. Flaunt and retire.
My theory is about frailty. Moments of frailty. You started unbuttoning my ribs around you. Watched me try to untangle myself from your subtle embrace. Exposed my weakness, my fragile strings wrapped on your pinky finger, ready to release, ready to detonate. I unzipped your thighs wrapped around my waist. You left me alone with your scent. Watch me try to scrub away the heat you leave on my skin. See the buttons slowly falling on the bed we shared.
My theory is about frailty. Moments of frailty. How I want to destroy anything that dared touch me and took a piece of my lonely. It is about open palms giving vague dislike. It is a table for two but only an empty seat stares at your eyes. It is feeling the awkward breaking that is within your fingertips but never seemed to be enough for preparing you for the fall. You finally wake up choosing to breathe but still flinching at the sound of something coming near. Your subtleties dance on her tongue's words. Soothing as they are, they're poison.
My theory is about frailty. Moments of frailty. How being brave is nowhere near your grasping distance. You try, every single day you try. You try to always go for the long term but the universe decides what you get, right? And you're always left with dust, shadows, and empty bottles of what ifs. You're always left with the questions, the sitting alone, the cold coffee in the morning. You're left with the sad playlists on your Spotify. You're left on your own. If you were in The Fault in our Stars book, that will be my always.
My theory is about frailty. Moments of frailty. Fears. Trembling hands holding out cups of secrets. Awkwardness in every written letter on paper hidden under the pillow. Loneliness sitting next to old books bought on a favorite bookstore. Depression long gone but resurfaces every now and then. It's one of things that stayed. Self-hate. It is one thing you run towards to when things get rough and when doubts are heavier than anything you laid your hands on and tried to carry.
My theory is about frailty. Moments of frailty. Of how I recently started loving myself and slowly drowning my hate in formaline. Of how I keep on repeating I never need the reassurance. Of how poems are all I need to feel like I can feel air inside my lungs again.
It is one thing to have a theory, and another to face it in practice.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
They were playing the beach boys
all day at work today
I went up to the computer
I typed in Black beach boys on Spotify
a white coworker put her hand on her hips
she said to me,
“Elan, there are no black beach boys, Im sorry.”
So I had my graphic designer friend
take an old beach boys poster
replace their faces with black men
Then he changed it to "Black Beach Boyz”
I put it on a T shirt
very professionally done
made me proud
I wore it to work the next day
My white coworker asked me
with a confused face and tone
“There really are the black beach boys?”
I said with a straight face,
“Yes they were the original. Then the white beach boys took their name and music and became famous.”
She said after a pause,
“Oh, wow. I didn’t know that."
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
O Debussy,
I run home from the bar
to hear the sssssound
of those sssssyllables
inciting
the ripplesssss of
fingersssss that will
ssssshudder my
sssssheltered sssssoul.
Your soul
too beautiful to write
but a *********
I must try...
BRUCE LIKES TO **** SO YOU SHOULD BUY HIS BOOK.
AUDIBLE, AN AMAZON COMPANY.
indecipherable terms and conditions
**SHUT THE **** UP SPOTIFY.**
I'M TRYING TO WRITE.
Ahh.
That's better.
O Debussy,
your accents strike
me like the moon,
Clair De Lune.
Shine your genius
upon me and
light my way
forward through
the next bus ride.
I will imagine the
silver grass pastures
that inspired you,
through the ***** window
that inspires me,
with buildings.
more buildings.
still more buildings.
Wow. These cheap headphones
really corrupt Reverie...
you must have sounded
awesome live,
at the piano,
by your side....
AT SQUARE SPACE WE BELIEVE IN THE CREATIVE ABILITY OF THE INDIVIDUAL...
Then **SHUT THE **** UP**
and let me write.
O Debussy,
your chords set
free souls —
caged birds that **** less.
Well souls don't **** at all,
but that isn't the point.
But seriously you...
HELLO SPOTIFY USER. WE HOPE WE ARE ANNOYING THE **** OUT OF YOU AND THAT YOUR DAY IS AWESOME. GO PREMIUM. :)
I give up. Debussy, you're great.
I ****
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
Hie Yamaha Wegman ****** voyager, voted vonage valuable, unrepentant TIME Magazine subscriber. Spotify sportsman Snapchat smartly. Sleuth slenderman silences Shutterfly schvitzing. Saxby sassy Santander sais sage rues rudimentary router rotorooter.
Royale Rococco rigged remarkably regular referee reefers red reddit reeder recuperating. Reconnaissance recluse really rabid. QVC quotient quoting, quo quoi quivering quite quirky. Quisling quipped. Quintuplets quintessentially quiet. Quids Quicken questions.
Quartermaster qualified quaint quaffing quadrilateral Pythons. Pyrex pylons put purdy purposeful puny punsters punching. Pumpkin pumice publicized prudential protean pros properly pronouncing prolific prodigies.
Proletariats professors' problematic. Pro privileges prioritized. Principle primates prevaricate. Preppy pregnant, praying prattler possibly Porgie. Poseidon pooping poodle ponders poppycock. Plum? Polite poison pods ply pitiful pinterest.
Pinhead Pillsbury pillager Pi. Pigskin pierce petsmart pests permanently. Perdition percolates peppered PennState pedigreed PearlJam Patagonian. Pastor pastes passion passably. Papas' paginated orbitz okayed. Nutty node needs money.
Next netzero nee naugahyde. Nattering nationwide nabob Moxie Molly McGee. Monosodium livingsocial joyus je kickstarter. Identityguard Huffington GMO. Gluten Glutamate footloose fancy free footlocker. Fingerhut fetishistic fabrication Cingular.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
With Google Maps
Of subway tracks
I walked into the world
To kicks and claps
Of Spotify tracks
I walked and bopped and whirled
Off to see my Meetup friends
To the show from Last.fm
It's sad I couldn't be Foursquare mayor
But at I least I got some XM
They wouldn't get me YouTube likes
But I managed to get some Snaps
My Facebook mood was kinda rude
So I posted on YikYak
Waiting, I swiped right on Tinder
Emojis, and flirting ensued
She sent me her Tumblr, I reblogged her gifs
I asked her to Kik me a ****
Waiting, I browsed around Etsy
Posted the cool stuff to /r/pics
Got x-posted to karmaconspiracy
Was all “NAH MY GF MADE THIS"
Back IRL, ran into coworkers
They asked if I’d go down east side
I mulled it over briefly and then
I simply replied
I'll do it for the Instagram
I do it for the Vine
My phones got charge
My credits got charge
Lets go and leave it behind
I'll see it for the Periscope
I'll think it for the Tweet
And as soon as I get my Watch
Maybe I'll have a heartbeat
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
I thought of you today when I noticed the dirt underneath my fingernails
And when I felt the wind in my hair as I flew down a hill on my bike
And when I stared at the Hocking River again as it gently swirled downstream.
When I realized I’d be going to bed early and
When I thought about sleeping alone,
As I do almost every night.
When I decided to go the long way home.
When I sat down on a bench, ate a granola bar, and sipped away the rest of my water.
When I threw my shovel aside and dug with my hands.
When I wiped the sweat from my brow.
When I looked at my Aloe Vera plant and realized I hadn’t watered it in a while.
When I watered my Aloe Vera plant.
When I left the dinner table before the rest of my friends to call my grandma
Who once told me that you and I should get married.
When I laughed at my own thoughts
And when Ani DiFranco came on my Spotify.
I don’t exactly know what I mean
When I say I thought of you.
I don’t know anything exactly, I mean
What if the universe jumps erratically through temporal space,
And each moment only seems continuous cuz we only remember what came “before” it, as we say?
When I say that, when I think about that,
I guess I’d call that thinking about you.
I thought about you when I thought about
Getting ice cream
And when I thought I got a splinter,
Neither of which
Actually happened.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
It’s nice to have some holiday downtime and not be all go-go-go. I’ve even gotten in some Animal Crossing play. After 40 minutes of picking up weeds, Bianca, one of my villagers, told me she’d heard I was dead.
Later, we’re in Lisa’s living room taking turns playing songs from Spotify.
Lisa just played “Woo”, by Rihanna. When the song ends, fading out, Leeza deadpan said, “That song is pure evil.”
“You guys, I forgot to mention it but that is my energy song, it makes me feel so HOT.” Lisa adds with a chuckle.
“It has an evil vibe,” I admit. “An evil vibe,” Leeza confirms.
“Don’t be judging,” Lisa reminds us.
“Your next,” Lisa said, nodding to Leeza, “What’ve you got for us,” she speculates, “some mental health rock?”
Leeza’s had this girl-punk-rock group called “Vancougar” playing on a loop in her room. At first, I wasn’t enthusiastic but now I think they slay. Her mom’s even gotten on board, dancing “the twist” to “Philadelphia” when it rolls around. Leeza has great taste in music although she leans a bit EMO (emotionally hard core) for me. She makes me feel old by introducing us to all these new bands like “Youngest and only,” “Calling all Captains” and “Beatrice Dear.”
“I’ve got one song to play,” Leeza says, “Paparazzi, by Lady Gaga.”
“I’ve been listening to that song all WEEK!” I gasp, “I love that song, it may be her best - that’s so random,” I finish saying as the song starts.
As Paparazzi ends Lisa says, “That song has major Gwen Stefani vibes.”
“It DOES,” I agree, “It could be “Cool” or “Sweet Escape.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Leeza agreed, “shoutout to No Doubt.”
Leeza says, “I have a conversation topic: What’s something we all acknowledge is cheugy but we still do anyway?”
“Being blonde,” I say, which gets stitches of laughter because it’s true and Lisa and I are.
“That’s true, that’s fair,” redheaded Leeza laughs. “Anyone blonde is dead to me,” which gets her a pillow in the face.
“Ok, I’m going to come for a lot of people,” Lisa says, “but yogurt, yogurt is cheugy.”
Leeza gasps, “You think yogurt.. It’s not cheugy!” she practically yells, “It gives MOM.”
Dec 28, 2022
Dec 28, 2022 at 3:33 PM UTC
the light is too bright
can you dim the dimmer?
boygenius is on the stereo
a bluetooth speaker
via spotify premium — student account
my brain feels like a butterfly house
humid and stuffy and filled with insects
we moved on from tinder
to talking over text
you are so cute
the butterflies move
to my gut, heart's a flutter
my foot in my mouth
Jan 18, 2020
Jan 18, 2020 at 8:10 AM UTC
new shoes and late night blues
drinking ***** listenin' to views
getting 'dude' as a tattoo
i'm never getting over u
middle of may and it's all the same
life's a game that i can't play
im runnin' late at airport gates
i never thought i'd miss my plane
cigarettes and a hypocrite
white outfits that i regret
singing this to my little sis
won’t remember but can’t forget
warm beers and sudden tears
faced my fear after all these years
belvedere under a chandelier
as cold and sad as the atmosphere
blue lights on spotify
goodbyes and on my mind
getting high sippin' on wine
thinking ‘bout some stupid guy
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC