this is the town where your childhood is sleeping, this is the place where your parents still live, and your siblings stayed longer than you ever did. in future depressing, developed and dead, no longer the home that you kept in your head, this is the town where your best moments slept, before you moved on to find better than best. your mumbling and shoe-scuffing, awkwardly kissing, the grass in the evening, the wind that was speaking. the moments you’re missing by missing this place, your first box of matches, the first blurring face, because this is the place where the broken glass started, convincing yourself that it wasn’t half-hearted, the ending of things that you spent half a year on, the extracurricular cuttings that lead onto things that you’ll care for. the smell of the dirt. the phone towers, cat-shaped, and colours that hurt when you think of the way that the sky looks much better out here where the people aren’t strung close together. this is the place where you thought you might drown, it’s the strings in your body, the longing you found, it’s the knot in your chest before you were let down by the people and places outside of this town.
if you pick the path
with the half-healed scab
and you walk the way
with the deadbeat dad
I’ll be catching coins
you’ll detach success
at your last big break
though you dressed your best
you’ll be biting back
at the bet-boned boy
with a thing for luck
and a taste-test turn
when you still can’t cook
and the business burns
as he makes you mad
with the things you’ll learn
then the next high roller
lays the cards down flat
and you can’t control her
but we both knew that
and I get one dollar
into my little cup
for every time you fuck up
ahahaha awkward moment talking about feminist art in my tutorial today, I was saying how not all feminists are bra-burning crazies and then remembered that I didn’t wear a bra to uni and I looked down and was like…oh.
fight for me. i could love you
forever right now. holding back
for the first time. from that time on,
paris was a planet. a man who would
always love you, no matter what.
have seven kids, thousands, millions.
when i said i wanted you to rot in hell
like a bauble, or a trinket, do you think
i really meant i wanted you to burn?
people learn guitar in hell.
hear this from me directly:
courage is a man with a gun in his hand.
do you think that love is a gift?
i wanted you to understand:
you’re not tracking those bloody footprints
in here for all eternity.
there’s a swamp inside me into which things leach
there’s a sinkhole sucking and a black hole creeps
with my eyes at sea-level something seeps
on the downward spiral
to soft survival
and more uneasy sleep
couldn’t take it, so I didn’t
take the sink out of the kitchen
breaking eggs and drowning vowels
in elbow-deep and dirty water
making nothing, making noises
constant endless contradictions
knowing nothing though you ought to
stop your crying, no more kitchens
apron, bowl and cutter ready
one day soon you’re going steady
cake on counter, don’t forget
faking, fuming, take your head
you know that this is what you get
in the oven, unforgiving, leaking lies and lone regret