learning american history of the 1950s using “we didn’t start the fire” by billy joel
i see nothing wrong with this
but growing is forever
this is literally so sweet. thank you darling xx
i couldn’t be a writer
for a living
because i forget too often
and too easily
about the way your spine felt
against my fingertips
drip drip from the tender crook
of your neck and
fingers, deep and ruined,
always moving like
the tiny laps of the ocean
on the shore and
a strawberry field on the lips
and wind in the willows breaths
soft and gentle
a dying star’s final sigh
i forget for days and it hits me
suddenly, like the vastness of the universe
or a left-behind wallet
or an idea,
as i’m thinking about how
nice the weather has been.
You’re the day after Tuesday, before eternity.
You’re the day we ran out of tomatoes
and used tiny packets of ketchup instead.
You are salt, no salt, too much salt, a hangover.
You hold the breath of an abandoned cave.
Sometimes you surprise me with your
aurora borealis and I’ll pull over to watch you;
I’ll wait in the dark shivering fields of you.
But mostly, not. My students don’t care for you
or your lessons from the life of a minor god.
Can you hit the high C in our anthem?
Can you bench press a national disaster?
I fear for you, Wednesday. Your papers
are never in order. Your boots track in mud.
You’re the day I realized I didn’t even like him,
and the day I still said yes, yes, yes.
Sometimes I think you and I should elope,
and leave this house of cards to shuffle itself.
You are love, no love, too much love, a cuckold.
You are the loneliest of the three bears, hoping
to come home and find someone in your bed.
There’s always a pounding in my ears, a ticking on the clock, a little voice whispering and shouting rhythmically, you should have stayed, you should have stayed. Wishes don’t do a damn thing and I would know. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t cutting and pasting lungs and wrists and lips all over broken bodies, forgetting which veins go where. I forget everything but the tick tock that passes the time.
come and run from the heat
in the middle of a sunlit street
seeing thoughts in repeat
you’re the one that i’ll miss
from my summer when i’d stolen a kiss
hear the endless hiss
as he rolls into the starlit abyss
it’s just a deadbeat summer.
Do not get your hopes up.
oh please oh please oh please let this happen bc florence and the machine & rhcp & childish gambino & franz ferdinand & of monsters and men & avicii & jack whiteeeee
All things once
are things forever.
Soul, once living,
for your sake, i hope heaven and hell
are really there, but i
wouldn’t hold my breath.
you wasted life so
why wouldn’t you