sorry my time is off your hands
don’t mind me
just contemplating my
insatiable hunger for something that
doesn’t quite make any sense at all

maybe i’ll just order some Chinese
and call it a day.

i let a lonely wednesday creep up
i keep a key ring around my thumb
last night my feet were like leather
belted like whiplash
i may have crashed
a pink cough syrup daydream
flooded through the mainstream
i wonder could i have wandered
into nightlife
the way you tried?
we’ll all still be here next time
limbs like my father
a family tree won’t you agree
some punch and some slap
some kiss and come back
some don’t
we still miss the ones that go
plus the ones that stay at home
i’ve never felt so not alone
couch cushions and make-up bags
she brags
about a boy with pretty lips
he leaves before he quits
i think i came away with a photo
of a lover distracted by some other
consequence
he closed his eyes they took him in
i think it was
such a pretty melancholy mess
i missed you nonetheless.

this place is filled
with skins that i’ll never be able
to slide myself into
here i am browsing the aisles
of personas that i may dream about
but silky sundresses
and button up skirts
could never work their way
around me
i guess

i want to write about leaving home
how it feels to not know where the grocery store is
how it feels to try and convince the people around you
that you're not crazy
before they find out for themselves that you probably are.

everytime i try to write about leaving home
all i do is think of home.

a place that tried to **** me.
a place i could have been a better grandson.
a place that feels warm in my mind
but cold on my skin.

can i really blame the riverbed
and that old rope swing
for taking away the only thing
i ever really loved.
maybe we could have found
some other way to get there.
we were too young to know better.

sometimes it’s in the way he looks at me
the boy’s got eyes like something gentle
sometimes it’s in the way he doesn’t look at me
but the crowd’s got eyes that see it all
(and they like to whisper to me things like
the boy’s got something in him that’s made for you)
i think i’ve got something in me that’s made for him

sometimes it’s in the way he speaks to me
the boy’s got a mind like a wildfire like a whip
sometimes it’s in what he doesn’t speak at all
the time’s gotta be right and he knows when it’s not
i like to think of us as magnets though
and surely we’re opposite sides
because i haven’t repelled him yet

please nobody tell him i’m in love with him.

my hometown waits for me
like a lover
on the wrong side of a passing train window.

ill be back
but i wont be the same.

and we'll both be disappointed
in each other.