The things I see, the things I love
Breathless hesitation
You notice things about me that others don’t
Secret little conversations
Have to pay for parking, you say you won’t
Disenchanted with inadequacy
Failed comprehension
You, there, biting your lip
Trying to hold back the tension
A slippery waterfall
The golden gate bridge
Didn’t return your call
Words like a sales pitch
I think I’ve counted the ways
of how to make this tree grow
but when it’s this cold out
you always feel so alone.
Strawberry kisses, sweet tangerines
Life is getting better, so it seems
Misunderstanding me; vanilla ice cream
My planner, not filled out, blank pages
forgetting days, not even watching them pass
like a ghost hiding from its reflection
Long nails, difficult to type
Sold out concerts, not worth the hype
Poems that aren’t intended to rhyme
3 stanzas is preferred
4 is out of the ball park
A hit or a miss
A hit or a miss
All-consuming and inevitably hopeless. Hopeful in the mornings when the day is just starting and it’s crisp. Dressed head to toe like it’s a piece of cake. Waviness, whatever.
Do not disturb him when he’s in his element — it’s also too cute to intervene. I’ve been being kind of mean. Thinking about what is and what isn’t deserved.
Told I don’t make too much sense. These are the trivial things, really. Because what will soon occupy my time will be grander, greater. On a level or some shit.
Oh to inspire.
Your body, lying underneath the window’s shades. Seventh avenue. Houses without legible numbers on them, elm trees in the breeze.
Rainfall only at nighttime. Crisp apple-colored lights to illuminate the backyard. That we don’t use, because the kitchen light is just fine when you’re drinking wine.
Getting back into atmospheric black metal and depressive black metal. Forgot how nice the sounds were, the lyrics and the beats. Footprints on the planet.
Found out the Neighbourhood can be classified as “alternative r&b” but I didn’t like anything that they said were similar sounds. Some bands just make their own groove in the world that’s untouched and unable to be copied.
Their own groove in the world, into the atmospheric core.
Take the initiative, that’s what I like. Ask me out, on your crisp black dirt bike. Painted nails, nice sparkly pink with jewels. Phone case is sheer and my expression is mean.
Don’t back down, or ride away. Move with me. In sync, like lavender, like blueberry pies. Take a chance with me, for me, for you, for this. We’re so good at taking photographs, but we never take them of us, which is a shame.
Sitting by yourself, I ask why you’re not making any noise. Getting drinks with the boys. Cruising down Malibu with the mountains by your side. You say that’s in the past– past you now.