for my soul
promenade down main street, geeking our faces off,
you in a shark costume me with lightning coming out of my veins
the streets squirming and breathing
people lapping like waves, dispersing like smoke.
a million bells ring as a million shop doors open and close
the metal tapping against the rusty frames
and it becomes our mantra.
two weeks later a picnic in the shade
birch and spruce bending like sinews, muscle tissue
draped down from the sky.
the clouds are cotton patches
in the big guy's blue jeans
we eat carrot sticks and giggle
like drunk ninjas in a bar fight.
when i wake up and you're not there
i twist the ring on my finger that was never there.
i look at the last of the darkness
still clinging to the corners of the room
and then i look at the light.
i light a cigarette
and get dressed.
we get drunk and swim under a waterfall
all that pressure, all that gravity
hitting you, beating you.
it feels good to fight back,
it feels good to stand up and prove it wrong.
we smile and take a nap.
quiet.
fire. drum and bass music. lights.
dark. light. dark. light.
stimulus, drugs in our veins, pulsing
no more pain, just music
blood, wine and glowsticks.
everything is blood, wine and glowsticks.
our existence. our new mantra.
in the attic, reading old magazines
dust and a record playing with all its flappy poppy gusto
that fuzz that comes from a needle fucking a piece of plastic.
good coffee and the way it smells.
little triangular pieces of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
we read eachother articles that "i know will move you"
and they do.
someday we'll get a house, with a porch
and move out of this apartment
no more halogen hallways with sticky floors
no more television noise from the rest of the world
just some chairs and some simple things.
water. pure. mist from the rain. clap of god's hands.
magic is real
we'll tell people, with earnest love in our eyes
you can have some if you like.
you in a shark costume me with lightning coming out of my veins
the streets squirming and breathing
people lapping like waves, dispersing like smoke.
a million bells ring as a million shop doors open and close
the metal tapping against the rusty frames
and it becomes our mantra.
two weeks later a picnic in the shade
birch and spruce bending like sinews, muscle tissue
draped down from the sky.
the clouds are cotton patches
in the big guy's blue jeans
we eat carrot sticks and giggle
like drunk ninjas in a bar fight.
when i wake up and you're not there
i twist the ring on my finger that was never there.
i look at the last of the darkness
still clinging to the corners of the room
and then i look at the light.
i light a cigarette
and get dressed.
we get drunk and swim under a waterfall
all that pressure, all that gravity
hitting you, beating you.
it feels good to fight back,
it feels good to stand up and prove it wrong.
we smile and take a nap.
quiet.
fire. drum and bass music. lights.
dark. light. dark. light.
stimulus, drugs in our veins, pulsing
no more pain, just music
blood, wine and glowsticks.
everything is blood, wine and glowsticks.
our existence. our new mantra.
in the attic, reading old magazines
dust and a record playing with all its flappy poppy gusto
that fuzz that comes from a needle fucking a piece of plastic.
good coffee and the way it smells.
little triangular pieces of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
we read eachother articles that "i know will move you"
and they do.
someday we'll get a house, with a porch
and move out of this apartment
no more halogen hallways with sticky floors
no more television noise from the rest of the world
just some chairs and some simple things.
water. pure. mist from the rain. clap of god's hands.
magic is real
we'll tell people, with earnest love in our eyes
you can have some if you like.