Crash land. Blume calls in sick. Melodie answers with her usual stiff upper lip smile through the pain consortium of well-worn woe. “I’ll make a note of it.”
“Thanks, Sally,” Blume intentionally replies with the wrong name, a private joke between a requisite wallflower and the object of her undying affection.
He honestly wishes he could love someone that much. At this point though, he not only felt invariably incapable but voluminously vulnerable. Yet he couldn’t figure out why since he NEVER discussed feelings and therefore never allowed himself to get hurt. After Genevieve, that is. She rattled his cage, then took his perch and mirror, out of sheer meanness he was convinced but fuck if that didn’t make him love her more. It as like a drug you can’t get enough of but never do too much.
Where was she now? Probably at the top of the food chain or the bottom of an undredged lake. A murky affair just waiting to clear the air. A way out of a sticky situation like not running from a bear. Or punching the nose of a shark.
Give me all the wicker from Vienna to Pasadena, one step up, three more back. Can’t you see / you and me / there is nothing / left to say
But I’m a-gonna say it anyway.
Aww what good is that? Plunging that rusty nail into my skull, holding my hair under water, trying maybe to see how long it takes for air to reach me when bad men are near.
I found out tonight you were among the living who consorts with demons. Perhaps it’s easier that way. At first, I believed you when you said it was because they were energy personified whereas the forces for good were far less interesting, dry not droll, staunch in their observation always pointing out the furniture that needs replacing, never offering to help, standing around with entitlement tattoos across an anxious rise between the brows.
Oh how I hated that I needed you at one time. Now the threads are bare, you’re a faded fact, a reality blurred, nothing and everything all at once. How I wanted to love but your cold heart made that impossible.
The morning faded into late night remorse, remembering the take to tell, raking your dignity across belligerent smoldering coals. Mic, mic, mic control. Blood on you day. What did I say? Play the music for the people with da harmony/ woah goawwah
Alpha Hotel hole in the wall
Nothing yet
What’s taking so long
Who’ve you met?
