RE: I am still alive---are you?----I don't think you care about me at all, really, right BITCH?
tides are changing.
i like to think of myself as swimming in whatever it is an atmosphere;
alcohol is thinner than water and people mostly drown,
density torturing strings and whistles.
me? i had to figure out the progression on my own,
in case you were wondering:
CAPO 3, G-D-Em-C-D-Em.
so on long island with the world turning around you,
she had tears all over the phone, she opened her eyes to such a truth.
nervousness comes in a malt flavor.
skepticism is a pastel and a spectral translation of the weather.
easily, "i am a happy person!"
what i gave to her.
and tonight, a lap so tensely damp, the ridges of this translation
reverberating through that history. beauty was on my lap,
wining and jerking, honestly i felt it through my pants.
the phone dying, my love was being rescued, and we all had
our highness tropically, screened, never any fog.
she asked me to spend the night,
never so much sweat, dancing and dancing.
i had another. and i vaguely remembered the sensation of having
a beautiful woman cling to you like she needed you to breathe.
she said, "i was never completely there."
i showed her where to go.
and then, dancing with the mirror-blue night,
a hot and valuable consciousness,
my arm glowed, the blood shown,
the marks shown, i have proof and evidence
that would make more than i can think of, cry.
recalling the night after halloween, which somehow i remember.
it was that moment i told myself
the truth about heaven.
and tiny dust bathing in sweat between our fingers,
palms embracing a light contained yet beaming.
and the girl called, and said, "how are you doing,"
to my benefit my lap, to my benefit a party,
a life, drinks, and conceit.
i pull my weight, now.
which, yes, includes an military of girls that you command in my dreams,
a rope, a tactically filled army truck put in park with the emergency brake,
and my waist, quicksand to my ankles already.
you described it easily as a safety,
i described it even easier as refuge, salvation, and almost orgasmic comfort.
satisfaction, really.
i have fallen in love, maybe reluctantly,
and perhaps still kicking and screaming, but
i have a new bed to fly away in. intense is not it,
god, it is flowing nova, chemical tides, explosion of endorphins,
i know what was missing out of everything.
this is satisfaction, out of everything.
→manda
i like to think of myself as swimming in whatever it is an atmosphere;
alcohol is thinner than water and people mostly drown,
density torturing strings and whistles.
me? i had to figure out the progression on my own,
in case you were wondering:
CAPO 3, G-D-Em-C-D-Em.
so on long island with the world turning around you,
she had tears all over the phone, she opened her eyes to such a truth.
nervousness comes in a malt flavor.
skepticism is a pastel and a spectral translation of the weather.
easily, "i am a happy person!"
what i gave to her.
and tonight, a lap so tensely damp, the ridges of this translation
reverberating through that history. beauty was on my lap,
wining and jerking, honestly i felt it through my pants.
the phone dying, my love was being rescued, and we all had
our highness tropically, screened, never any fog.
she asked me to spend the night,
never so much sweat, dancing and dancing.
i had another. and i vaguely remembered the sensation of having
a beautiful woman cling to you like she needed you to breathe.
she said, "i was never completely there."
i showed her where to go.
and then, dancing with the mirror-blue night,
a hot and valuable consciousness,
my arm glowed, the blood shown,
the marks shown, i have proof and evidence
that would make more than i can think of, cry.
recalling the night after halloween, which somehow i remember.
it was that moment i told myself
the truth about heaven.
and tiny dust bathing in sweat between our fingers,
palms embracing a light contained yet beaming.
and the girl called, and said, "how are you doing,"
to my benefit my lap, to my benefit a party,
a life, drinks, and conceit.
i pull my weight, now.
which, yes, includes an military of girls that you command in my dreams,
a rope, a tactically filled army truck put in park with the emergency brake,
and my waist, quicksand to my ankles already.
you described it easily as a safety,
i described it even easier as refuge, salvation, and almost orgasmic comfort.
satisfaction, really.
i have fallen in love, maybe reluctantly,
and perhaps still kicking and screaming, but
i have a new bed to fly away in. intense is not it,
god, it is flowing nova, chemical tides, explosion of endorphins,
i know what was missing out of everything.
this is satisfaction, out of everything.
→manda