you know when it's time to go to sleep.
a new drink and i'm writing your name on my hand so that i won't forget it. when falling alseep at the wheel isn't an option, when the only thing that lights up your eyes is getting home, and when everything seems to make more sense on tv, turn around and view things from a different angle. wake up, shake it off, take a drink, swallow some pills, look in the mirror. look pathetic, swallow your pride, get a fucking job, take it to the streets, ask questions later, smoke because you forgot you'll end up with cancer.
did fucking me really change a thing? did it make you fall in love? did the taste of sweat make you want to come back?
i don't make connections, dont take guesses, look back. tomorrow when you call, don't forget to say your name and repeat your number twice, the second time more slowly than the first just so i can make sure that i understand it. i don't want to misdial or anything, i don't want to be unable to return the call because i couldn't make out the last two digits or whatever.
wouldn't you rather be alone than with somebody who didn't get you? is that the case here? it is, isn't it. i'm asking for answers, i'm taking strides to make changes so that this all works out perfectly.
changing panties, slipping on a pair of my shittiest hip hugger jeans, strapping on mary janes from steve madden, dotting on lipstick and then pursing your lips so it bleeds on evenly, and i'm watching in the doorway, and as this is happening i'm thinking about diet sprite and peppermint schnapps, i'm thinking about movies that didn't make sense, johnny depp, single mothers, your face in a photograph, drinking bottled water.
and at this instant things in the sky break apart, something inside me hatches, its all black, and i'm back in color but black and white looks better anyway. i think it's apple juice, i think this is a waste, and i think i want you, when i'm drunk.
this is somebody. this is urban decay and levis. under water. feeling every curve.
------------------------------------------
so that was the poem i originally wanted to submit to the poetry contest last year but then i remembered that mr. potter clearly knew everything about me and that would just be very awkward. i'm going to hand it in next year though because i don't care.
did fucking me really change a thing? did it make you fall in love? did the taste of sweat make you want to come back?
i don't make connections, dont take guesses, look back. tomorrow when you call, don't forget to say your name and repeat your number twice, the second time more slowly than the first just so i can make sure that i understand it. i don't want to misdial or anything, i don't want to be unable to return the call because i couldn't make out the last two digits or whatever.
wouldn't you rather be alone than with somebody who didn't get you? is that the case here? it is, isn't it. i'm asking for answers, i'm taking strides to make changes so that this all works out perfectly.
changing panties, slipping on a pair of my shittiest hip hugger jeans, strapping on mary janes from steve madden, dotting on lipstick and then pursing your lips so it bleeds on evenly, and i'm watching in the doorway, and as this is happening i'm thinking about diet sprite and peppermint schnapps, i'm thinking about movies that didn't make sense, johnny depp, single mothers, your face in a photograph, drinking bottled water.
and at this instant things in the sky break apart, something inside me hatches, its all black, and i'm back in color but black and white looks better anyway. i think it's apple juice, i think this is a waste, and i think i want you, when i'm drunk.
this is somebody. this is urban decay and levis. under water. feeling every curve.
------------------------------------------
so that was the poem i originally wanted to submit to the poetry contest last year but then i remembered that mr. potter clearly knew everything about me and that would just be very awkward. i'm going to hand it in next year though because i don't care.