Darling, I am sick to the teeth
of waking up and being ,,,,
i will blend in with the crowd.
i do the dishes and oil my hair.
i put clean clothes on everyday
the blues of a dentist's wall and the greens of dried leaves,
black that's been washed too many times,
i brush my teeth and eat 3 meals a day.
i drink milkshakes and eat sliced tomatoes
and smoke cigarettes on my balcony.
i go to the gym and think too much about the people next to me and whether or not i'd welcome their advances
i masturbate in the bath and always feel shitty the moment i come.
i make plans and talk to strangers and spend 10 dollars on coffee
drive too fast and always am scared i left the garage door open, even though i close it everytime.
and i dream of being more,
and in the middle i lay, in the middle i will braid grass into my blanket and look at the sky, at the stars i cannot see because there are clouds, and
i think about writing all the time, you know. I think of it when i have these empty pockets in my day, and almost never do. And when I finish writing, i get sad. well, sad-der, really.
darling, i am lonely and only you can fix it, will you hold my face and kiss my forehead and squeeze my body to yours?
i'll pretend it happens every night to fall asleep, and you will never meet me. How nice.