psyhike

almost there

you said, we've got a 

lot of things to talk about before we 

make it home

and then you walked 

onward

and eventually I did

also, but 

I must've stood there for an 

hour before I could scrounge together

bits and pieces 

of your body and 

find beauty in it's creases 

and where your neck meets

your shoulders

Surrounded by a thousand boulders, 

yet- 

not one as jagged as you. 

so it doesn't stick

after you let 

the bad feelings get you 

down the 

good will only seem 

farther 

away,

so when it's happening-

pretend it isn't.

I want to be kind of

alone in a big room

with you

enormous curtains and

flowers, blooming

constantly

i'll play dylan, you can

change it

if you want to

I'll still sing

it ain't me, babe

no, no, no,

it ain't me, babe

and they will talk about us when it's over

and we're at some dinner party

course we said it'd last forever

and our eyes will say

listen, papa the pasta's cold

Oh no , lil mama, I know, I'm old

and I can't make it better

and dylan

he keeps singing & he just keeps on singing in my ears & I hope he never stops

babe

we've all got a name

Seeing the same faces every day 

even when I stay inside 

grey walls

and not hiding anything I look out 

one of three windows 

with the shades drawn and I am imagining 

clouds inside; 

hovering up at the ceiling like small children with secrets

I play my guitar with a love that I found a few years ago 

in my old closet

in my old room 

at my parents house- 

made me feel new

and there is a girl in one of my classes 

made by watercolors and she would 

probably be a lot of fun to 

lay with on those 

old hardwood floors

but we barely ever use the front door anymore.

california

play breathing is deadly

and oddly enough 

I'm not bound 

to you. 

on the inner state in the seat behind the passenger seat looking out the window 

such a blank spot to be thinking about the places that you aren't that's what I do 

that's what I do. 

what I did see today

places 

that I find myself, lately

consisting of things like

my couch with a little to eat and 

eyes bigger than my stomach can be

it hurts to feel large blocks of hard and solid joy for too long and some  

boy of mine, runs 

outlines my ears and I meet him 

where my jaw meets my neck, last time I cried those tears, he 

took them back, said there

there, and on the bus ride away from a bigger bed than mine, and 

rushing past street signs, five past nine, morning

time, never waiting for 

anything, hate his smile

I can't

and she is where she is she is some delicate featured kind boned and quiet soul ready to light flames to her past, I know

we all, are

going 

places.