fucktardedness.
it's hard to know when someone digs what you do.
i like beef jerky and beautiful music and fighting and cussing and magic and cowboys and animals, especially rats, and open spaces and races and swamps and dark places and things that glow and musty paper and attics and old closets and carpet burns and dancers and firelight and contentedness and lonely despair and watching and laughing and good tales and cliffs and gales and leather and monsters and being scared and open sails and colored glass and well used cards and the burning fermentation of lactic acid and crying out my grief and knowing where i am and holding small things that were someone else's and honest smiles and girlish wiles and things that fall to pieces and when wanting ceases and all the things i like i like them all. but what do i want?
something like a prayer
by the strings in someone's blue jeans
by the weight of a dead animal
by yesterdays ever-after
by every star we've named and
every game we've played
the past is nothing more...
nothing more than sadness.
i never understood you
best friend of mine
the word "friend" has "end"
but i never thought it'd happen.
by camping in the kitchen
by telling the world to fuck off
by giving into charms and play
by exhaustion, every stay
we didn't stop the day
no, We just fade away.
our battles and fights, drawn
i never noticed your name
was the same as mine
though not outwardly
together we were drawn,
together, strong.
by the strings in someone's blue jeans
by the weight of a dead animal
by yesterday's ever-after
by every start we've made
and every game delayed
the past is nothing more...
nothing more than today.
where are you?
i swear.
i'm going to take a shower then continue reading.
i like beef jerky and beautiful music and fighting and cussing and magic and cowboys and animals, especially rats, and open spaces and races and swamps and dark places and things that glow and musty paper and attics and old closets and carpet burns and dancers and firelight and contentedness and lonely despair and watching and laughing and good tales and cliffs and gales and leather and monsters and being scared and open sails and colored glass and well used cards and the burning fermentation of lactic acid and crying out my grief and knowing where i am and holding small things that were someone else's and honest smiles and girlish wiles and things that fall to pieces and when wanting ceases and all the things i like i like them all. but what do i want?
something like a prayer
by the strings in someone's blue jeans
by the weight of a dead animal
by yesterdays ever-after
by every star we've named and
every game we've played
the past is nothing more...
nothing more than sadness.
i never understood you
best friend of mine
the word "friend" has "end"
but i never thought it'd happen.
by camping in the kitchen
by telling the world to fuck off
by giving into charms and play
by exhaustion, every stay
we didn't stop the day
no, We just fade away.
our battles and fights, drawn
i never noticed your name
was the same as mine
though not outwardly
together we were drawn,
together, strong.
by the strings in someone's blue jeans
by the weight of a dead animal
by yesterday's ever-after
by every start we've made
and every game delayed
the past is nothing more...
nothing more than today.
where are you?
i swear.
i'm going to take a shower then continue reading.