Plunging into the lake is like a slap in the face you’ve been begging for combined with an orgasm that you didn’t see coming. HA, coming. I’m not pandering I promise.
And even though I’m out of pills / With the right melody in my ears / I still fly high when I close my eyes
Your searing heat/ Made your darkness delicious/ All your dusks and your twilights/ Turned your blaze sacrilegious
Like the rest of you, her insides smell tantalizing of sterilized plastic It’s a smell that permeates all things hospital and when I get a whiff of hospital my body shouts, “Morphine!”
Clearly you’ve done something wrong and you’re weeping apologies because maybe that will get them to take the cuffs off your wrists and ankles so you can curl into a ball and break apart properly in the relative safety and comfort of a fetal position.
He played scrabble with clientele when it was slow, and read fat worn texts when there was no one who wanted to play, and even though I think books are sexy as fuck I never remembered what he was reading because I was distracted by the beautiful ink scrawled all over his arms.
And turn this suffering into something more lucrative / A pile of corrosive obsessive compulsive / Picked over, re-ordered words that might humbly / Speak to those who found love but were tragically clumsy
Even his voice, which is a delicious force nature in its own right, wasn’t enough to reel me in. Maybe I’m giving him too much credit because with the way I’m wired you can slap some bitchin’ eye makeup on just about anything with a penis and I go all cross-eyed with desire.
I’m dying for research that says I can be brilliant with no consequences.