two minutes.
She floats past me like a fucking angel and then evaporates. Tight pants and beat up shoes. My hand on a paper bag. 21 and full of cum. Howling with the werewolves outside of a convienence store. This is the intersection of juvinile delinquency and adulthood. I'm so gone. I can feel it. They're all out there, hiding underneath their skin. Unlacerated like you knew it was clean. Nice homes, big television set. My cock gets hard on the way to the car crash. Nothing out here but jobless boredom. Gotta go back to school, grow up, learn to like the feel of dust settling on your shoulders. Pack in and give up.
Hand on a cock like a hard gun; all white t-shirt and bicep. I stare at my face in some broken down mirror. Out the door, close the handle. Riding around in a big white car with the clan of psychopaths. October never felt so good. Cold skin blowing against my face like I'm pure again. Back home, snow melts on broken hearts. I can't hear any of it from the static on the dashboard. So long, fuckers...
The fastest afternoon ever, girls spinning by like clouds and thunderstorms. She floats past me like a sound wave on an FM radio transmission to nowhere. Everybody around me is drunk and talking. The world is FULL OF POSSIBILITY. Confusion and libidinal urge transcending the reality of my real, total, final isolation. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE. Don't go home. Stay up with me all night in this eternal park. Sip from a can of warm beer; rub your body against my hands, let me quake underneath the shadow of your heartbeat. Moaning for now gone youth and the screams of red lipstick on pink cock.
I reach into you like a vampire, thirsty for anything that can make me alive. No one ever understood. Moon shines out in the black sky; looks down at us like some corrupt southern cop. "You kids old enough to drink?". The whole fucking world exploding. A new possibility; a thousand eyes staring at you in a mall. You walk past in dull desperation. Maybe everything is real again. The only way to beat the clock is to run, run, run. Faster than bullets in movies, I veer towards her like a speeding car, 120 miles an hour, let my cock collide with your sleeping pills, we'll never pull over to side of the road; morning might come like an atomic bomb and destroy our whole lives, fucking you in a parked car by the side of a soft drink factory; dismal shrill of airplanes in the sky. Nobody is looking. We are finally alive for one estatic moment. I hope you remember this. Time stops moving in a straight line and finally becomes ours for one millisecond of desperate grasp, feel it in your sweaty little white palm, hold onto it harder, faster, the whole night caving into me like some terrorist attack in my heart, finally beating dead and alive on the naked pavement.
thump thump thump.
She floats past me like a ghost now. This is just a memory. Graveyard of missing dreams gone unreported for years until I can find the right syntax. All blue jeans and lost sensation...
Hand on a cock like a hard gun; all white t-shirt and bicep. I stare at my face in some broken down mirror. Out the door, close the handle. Riding around in a big white car with the clan of psychopaths. October never felt so good. Cold skin blowing against my face like I'm pure again. Back home, snow melts on broken hearts. I can't hear any of it from the static on the dashboard. So long, fuckers...
The fastest afternoon ever, girls spinning by like clouds and thunderstorms. She floats past me like a sound wave on an FM radio transmission to nowhere. Everybody around me is drunk and talking. The world is FULL OF POSSIBILITY. Confusion and libidinal urge transcending the reality of my real, total, final isolation. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE. Don't go home. Stay up with me all night in this eternal park. Sip from a can of warm beer; rub your body against my hands, let me quake underneath the shadow of your heartbeat. Moaning for now gone youth and the screams of red lipstick on pink cock.
I reach into you like a vampire, thirsty for anything that can make me alive. No one ever understood. Moon shines out in the black sky; looks down at us like some corrupt southern cop. "You kids old enough to drink?". The whole fucking world exploding. A new possibility; a thousand eyes staring at you in a mall. You walk past in dull desperation. Maybe everything is real again. The only way to beat the clock is to run, run, run. Faster than bullets in movies, I veer towards her like a speeding car, 120 miles an hour, let my cock collide with your sleeping pills, we'll never pull over to side of the road; morning might come like an atomic bomb and destroy our whole lives, fucking you in a parked car by the side of a soft drink factory; dismal shrill of airplanes in the sky. Nobody is looking. We are finally alive for one estatic moment. I hope you remember this. Time stops moving in a straight line and finally becomes ours for one millisecond of desperate grasp, feel it in your sweaty little white palm, hold onto it harder, faster, the whole night caving into me like some terrorist attack in my heart, finally beating dead and alive on the naked pavement.
thump thump thump.
She floats past me like a ghost now. This is just a memory. Graveyard of missing dreams gone unreported for years until I can find the right syntax. All blue jeans and lost sensation...