here we come to rock your body all night...
some random writing
*this room is hot. remnants of ex-friends and ex-friends lovers make it much more than just a place to lie my head. thinking of how much you have done on this spot as compared to how much i have makes me sicker than i would like to think of. you have too much potential to make it as a hero.
here, in this place we call the suburbs my face lights up the whole parking ramp. i hate it here, beneath the slick sarcasm of the city. let me go back to the place that i call home. beyond all of the three lane highways and four-leaf clovers. here i am home, next to the quiet little street in the quiet little town were everyone waves and no one tells the real truth.
for all i know i am the worst thing you have ever seen. i sit in my room exchanging dirty little secrets with your daughter while she is in her room. window open. just BEGGING me to crawl in. what do you think of that? your saab or bmw suv must drive pretty nice the next day. trying to make it to that "lunch meeting" with the receptionist on the 5th floor. what, "one hour" is more than enough time for you?
tennis seems like the sport for me. everything on that little white line is fair game. and lord (and allah) and everyone else that is watching knows that i use every little scratch of paint on that clay.
youthfull exsistence is the only exsistence that i can see.
"you (she) must be exhausted..." oh wait... did i use that one before?
those shorts must come off, i thought, as i happily counted next to her. counted? or did step out of line and into unemployment. this place is too damn hot at night and i cant wait for the last switch to turn off.
sufjan stevens will make it all better.
this scent, her scent, lingers in the air before i turn off the last light. stuck in my nose all the way underneath the bridge... to your bed. but you were at least 13 countries away. somewhere where it must seem a lot better than here. but coming back home is all i thought about.
that dress is the only thing i could think about. sitting here, up next to this damp slab of wood, wondering if i have enough cash to close out for all of this. can i close the night too? i pull her out of the bar and make a way to her friends place and then to her car and then back to my place. sound right? ahh... i may have left out some tiny little details like smart kisses, tequila shots, pineapple chasers, saint paul, and one overlooking detail i like to call "loving her is the only thing i do right"
lets fly off to far off places right here in my bed room. i can see the skyline if i step out, take a left. walk 50 feet and look right. thats my wimbeldon. and you better believe i used every inch*
*this room is hot. remnants of ex-friends and ex-friends lovers make it much more than just a place to lie my head. thinking of how much you have done on this spot as compared to how much i have makes me sicker than i would like to think of. you have too much potential to make it as a hero.
here, in this place we call the suburbs my face lights up the whole parking ramp. i hate it here, beneath the slick sarcasm of the city. let me go back to the place that i call home. beyond all of the three lane highways and four-leaf clovers. here i am home, next to the quiet little street in the quiet little town were everyone waves and no one tells the real truth.
for all i know i am the worst thing you have ever seen. i sit in my room exchanging dirty little secrets with your daughter while she is in her room. window open. just BEGGING me to crawl in. what do you think of that? your saab or bmw suv must drive pretty nice the next day. trying to make it to that "lunch meeting" with the receptionist on the 5th floor. what, "one hour" is more than enough time for you?
tennis seems like the sport for me. everything on that little white line is fair game. and lord (and allah) and everyone else that is watching knows that i use every little scratch of paint on that clay.
youthfull exsistence is the only exsistence that i can see.
"you (she) must be exhausted..." oh wait... did i use that one before?
those shorts must come off, i thought, as i happily counted next to her. counted? or did step out of line and into unemployment. this place is too damn hot at night and i cant wait for the last switch to turn off.
sufjan stevens will make it all better.
this scent, her scent, lingers in the air before i turn off the last light. stuck in my nose all the way underneath the bridge... to your bed. but you were at least 13 countries away. somewhere where it must seem a lot better than here. but coming back home is all i thought about.
that dress is the only thing i could think about. sitting here, up next to this damp slab of wood, wondering if i have enough cash to close out for all of this. can i close the night too? i pull her out of the bar and make a way to her friends place and then to her car and then back to my place. sound right? ahh... i may have left out some tiny little details like smart kisses, tequila shots, pineapple chasers, saint paul, and one overlooking detail i like to call "loving her is the only thing i do right"
lets fly off to far off places right here in my bed room. i can see the skyline if i step out, take a left. walk 50 feet and look right. thats my wimbeldon. and you better believe i used every inch*