Of controlling the earth,in which you occupy
while drowning in my English breakfast tea,in the garden
i am counting the ways my bones could break
if I fell
I am subtracting the ways
I have withdrawn.
here's who Ive silently become
pacing. with my own two feet. I cant even bear the noise they make
And how was it that this all made sense last night?
I thew up my flag and followed you down that black beach
it must of been sunday
mistakes are often made on sunday
then tucked under a matress
and we don't speak of it
when the lord yells hide
we always seem to seek
about last night
obliged or obligated
even standing next to
or sitting underneath
that stunning masterpiece
on 12th and 16th
your neurotransmitters become so linked
with my own. and we are one. and I've won.
and you are won-derfully handsome.
I walked home that nite with six whole dollars in my hand
and a goldfish in a see through bag
in the left.
she was dying.
I could feel it.
swimming but she didn't mean it
just as we live our lives
don't you think?
I fall into a sleep
i am controlled by the consistencies that are out of my control
ironic or interesting.
the neighbors same record on repeat
cloudy mornings with dylan
bedtime with the king
I open up my sketchbook around 5 am
and theres this song in the background about
a hummingbird type of girl
I draw two circles on a page
(THESE ARE PLANETS)
somehow I remember to write:
the galaxy is sick
of controlling the gravitational pull
of your heart
and your blood