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Less Provocative terms
Loneliness becomes mundane after time, there’s no romanticizing this anymore
The ever imposing downward spiral creeps up on you
It’s the empty space between you and whoever you just slept with
You hardly know them
It’s the sharp flicker of a dying lighter
I just bought this sh*t
It’s the hardness of cold pavement under bare shoulders downtown
Put a shirt on, kid
Hey big moon, you’re looking a lot like the darkness of my pupils tonight
Leaves will fall in the backyard a few weeks from now, and my mind will stir as I drift to sleep
All the bodies, poems, smiles, laughs, songs and pleasure
You should hear when you’re not around, when it’s just us and our poems to let the heat out
Smoke me out until I’m all used up
The night sky is sticky and tastes so sweet
Her hands are rough and sour
Your face and your eyes are screaming with all the things you want to say but aren’t sober enough to
Now were pressed against your bedroom door
I’m kissing the visions from your eyes
F*ck, here we go again
Smoke me out
Whisper to your bathroom mirror for it all to be nothing more than a regretful dream
My melancholy is sickening, twisting the lining of my stomach
Don’t mistake an ache for butterflies
Don’t mistake warmth for sunshine
Hey new moon, you’re looking a lot like my moods recently
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our bodies are warped and bent