I just traveled
With my soul
To the secret place where
No one knows where it is
Put your soul
In a jar
Where it can sit still.
We spend our days sipping coffee and writing meaningless words we think sound lovely together.
I just traveled
With my soul
To the secret place where
No one knows where it is
Put your soul
In a jar
Where it can sit still.
Your skin is like the paper
That I take my pen to.
I like to play connect-the-dots
With your freckles and a sharpie
Making constellations of stars
And sometimes swastikas
Sip your beer,
Tell me sweet, soft nothings in my ear
My love, my prize
Don’t leave me out to dry
Take me inside
I don’t care whether or not we cried
What matters to me
Is that you see
Maybe one day you can even have my heart
It’d be one hell of a relationship to start
To spark
To go fall in love on the swing sets in the park
Push me down the slide
Shoving our gentle feelings to the side
Cancer in my head is what I had
And the dream doctor said he needed to clean my brain
Everyone by my side, even my deadbeat dad
“You’ll feel a little pain,”
said Dr. Dream
He injected me with a drug making me float downstream
I was there on a raft, wading down the river
There were monsters, dinosaurs, and every type of strange beast
Then down the way was a big fucking bunny rabbit
Not big at first, he grew to the size of a house
And I fought this bunny on my raft, with large laser-lightsabers
But! This bunny rabbit had friends, next door neighbors
Neighbors that have big fangs and sharp claws
I sit in my raft, floating downstream
My head feels fluffy and poofy like cream
I sip calmly at my drink
The bunny rabbit doesn’t know what to think,
I’ve outsmarted him this time
I start to panic when a bell starts to chime
Then the pain starts to hit
And then I start feeling sick
“You just had your brain cleaned for the week”
My head feels like a space pod, controlled by robots
Try and act sober and ask for another treatment
Spin and spin
The spoon in the coffee
Avoiding conversations
That are bound to happen
Picking and picking
At food gone cold
Sitting here at the kitchen table
The silence doesn’t get old
The blade calls and it beckons my name,
I can’t cut again
I can’t feel the shame
The shame a bloody arm gave
A bloody arm cut down to the bone
My skin would scream that I’m all alone
Sleeved shirts in the summer and jeans at the beach
The infected skin is the color of a pale peach
The bloody arm is sliced again
I’m nowhere to go and without a friend
Sitting at the table with my mom, picking at my food
She asks where my smile went, and why I’m in a dull mood
Rolling up my sleeves, with all the bravery my heart can take
“Help me” I say, and my mother drops her plate
A nice album calls
“Abbey Road” the vinyl says
I jam out to it
I’m missing you more
Waiting for you at the door
For your Volkswagen
You may think it is
Creepy that I counted your
Cute eyelid freckles
It stings down my throat
The bitter taste I swallow
Not semen. Whiskey