Sitting on your cooler
You pull me in closer,
You say that you like me
And the rest is history.
Your smell, your breath
Your views on death
Your voice, your hands
Your working man’s tan.
I count my blessings
When they aren’t around.
I’m lost and I’m messy.
With you I’m found.
I thought I was waiting
On the right time to say this.
But I was right all along
And waiting was wrong.
The anger is changing
How I read your reactions.
Emotional violence
Ignites the dark silence.
The full moon is hanging
Somber in the smog.
We flash down the 10 West
“Would you just give it a rest?”
My fears do the blaming.
My ego is a paper maché planet.
We guard against the unreal,
We drown in what we feel.
Darling, we are waning.
Shadows crawled in our heart.
But the sun will still burn
And the earth will still turn.
And the full moon will return.
You are my Wednesday.
You are the metal clang,
And the slams that echo in the alley
At six in the fucking morning.
You are the sour, dour odor
That sighs over the neighborhood.
You are all the things I don’t need
All the carrot stems and fish skins,
And salted tissues.
You are on your way out
But you will be back in a week
To take more things from me
That I decided I don’t need.
Midge and I had taken some mushrooms. She was preoccupied with a jar of peanut butter And I was moving on the grassy dance floor, Sneaking sips of vodka-Redbull from behind the DJ booth. I knew the DJ. I think he liked me In a cute, early 2000s movie kind of way. At the office, he would show me music, Tell me how surprised he was to find out I smoked cigarettes. And we would blush wildly At the red-hot silence that squatted in between warm, flighty conversations. I still get a little nervous thinking about it. You came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance. It felt like just us— Except for moments when I caught the DJ's eyes He watched us dance, moving closer and closer. The night I met you, I had already given away a few pieces of my heart Slowly and carefully, wrapped in light pink tissue paper Tinged with cigarette burns. But you came in and took it, Unwrapped it, And started to give pieces back to me.
We haven’t slept together the whole month of November. And I’m starting to dream about what it feels like when you hold me.
In between alarms this morning, some version of you came to me and woke me up. I could feel your body, yes. But I could even feel your Feelings.
I could feel the love, as cliché as that sounds.
The way you cradled my head and propped the pillow up behind me was so sweet. I suppose it’s not much different when you’re actually around.
Neurotica 