(no subject)
The days are passing too quickly, the green has faded to orange, tips dipped in red, the blood of a thousand missed sunsets
Sticky sweet concoctions are dripping down my fingers and collecting in dirty pools beneath my toes, I am reminded of summers, of tragic first fumblings
I have eyes too dry, lips too wet, skin peeling like memory, bones for flowers
I have rapid thumps only to realize my blood is being drained and my voice is racing up and down the aisles, tripping and skinning its knee, mother holds me and says it will be alright, everything will be alright
I stopped believing in Santa Claus the night I found him with his fly undone, whiskey breath, fumbling fingers on mother's withered breasts
I stopped believing in Spring when the boys told me grass was made for tumbling
I still believe in love, even when his eyes are plucked from my head and drip red onto the living room floor
Birds and squirrels, orgy, despair, I still remember how bright the colors were when we held hands and feigned innocence
There are secret rooms inside of me, I am waiting for you to find them, valiant knight in full armor, don't let on that the sword is only a prop
This began as a song, love and truth and a bit with a dog, and now I have only exaggerations of events that never occurred, though I never looked to see if you even have freckles at all
Sticky sweet concoctions are dripping down my fingers and collecting in dirty pools beneath my toes, I am reminded of summers, of tragic first fumblings
I have eyes too dry, lips too wet, skin peeling like memory, bones for flowers
I have rapid thumps only to realize my blood is being drained and my voice is racing up and down the aisles, tripping and skinning its knee, mother holds me and says it will be alright, everything will be alright
I stopped believing in Santa Claus the night I found him with his fly undone, whiskey breath, fumbling fingers on mother's withered breasts
I stopped believing in Spring when the boys told me grass was made for tumbling
I still believe in love, even when his eyes are plucked from my head and drip red onto the living room floor
Birds and squirrels, orgy, despair, I still remember how bright the colors were when we held hands and feigned innocence
There are secret rooms inside of me, I am waiting for you to find them, valiant knight in full armor, don't let on that the sword is only a prop
This began as a song, love and truth and a bit with a dog, and now I have only exaggerations of events that never occurred, though I never looked to see if you even have freckles at all