It Really Wasn't What You Were Thinking, Darling. I Just Enjoy Confusing You.
This isn't some far fetched
disturbingly lovable scene
out of a PG Disney Movie!
This is sporadic teeth trying to
keep time with your clandestine heels,
and my lungs were
SUCH a
gossip at the time,
I could hardly offer you crafty
possibilities for the
badinage between our fingers.
But this isn't light.
What happened to the weightless words?
This is heavy-
as if you think that my 16 year young throat
could possibly cause ingenious
answers to flow past my lips.
My eyes have yet to adjust to this world-
ESPECIALLY
M I N E!
I haven't quite mastered the art of
carving patterns
to make everything fit together.
The milk carton in the trash can simply explains it all,
though, really.
Perhaps if I wasn't so absorbed in your brain,
I would've noticed the feather
under the
"HAVE YOU SEEN ME?"
sign that seemed to slap a person in the face whenever reading it-
as if we didn't know that someone could ever "be" missing.
There WERE aliens for a reason, right?
And I know my skin isn't cold from the Summer chill,
contradictions aside, but you know it's there.
You're expecting something essential
to the equation of US...
But, like I said,
I smoke cigarettes as if they're life preservers
so I can't possibly find myself answering any time soon.
Besides,
I've searched everywhere-
hell, even dictionary.com-
but I can not find the perfect definition of US.
You've been away for a while,
and, I think, maybe, just maybe,
you're hearing this moral dilemma I'm giving to myself in
narrative form.
It's absurd, really:
all of this coming from one question
that would seem arbitrary to others.
But,
you keep a thesaurus under your tongue
and a book of riddles behind your teeth,
so I was sort of expecting this.
After all,
you ARE as subtle as slitting throats.
My liver is getting itchy.
It's not filtering the irritation of you expecting me to
somehow know EVERYTHING!
And, really, why should I click my heels faster?
You were the one trying to choke back those sounds.
Chewing my cheek was more than
just a thought process-
"It's okay,"
you whispered, and, ahhh, there's that subtlety again. "I know the answer."
My feet must have decided that
they were done gaining mileage.
You fucking losers,
I had an inkling you would betray me.
And your timing was impeccable,
really, it was.
"No...no no no no no no no,"
and even my neck is fighting against my brain;
shaking to the point where
I thought I might just get
whiplash.
Note to Self, because I know you're listening;
contact a repair man-
you're obviously on the fritz.
I can't really stop them-
the words- you know?
They're pouring out.
It's like trying to stop an epileptic seizure
at this point,
and
I'm pretty sure you know this,
because you step a good foot
away
from me.
My eyes have yet to adjust to this world-
ESPECIALLY
M I N E!
I haven't quite mastered the art of
carving patterns
to make everything fit together.
The sandpaper in my mouth
flicks across my lips,
and my fingers start playing with
themselves.
Fuck dictionary.com,
I've got my answer.
"Nothing rhymes with orange.
I know, believe me, I do,
But...but I'd like if everything could-
staring NOW."
The cracks in my lip are being filled
with..
who knows?
Spit?
Your tongue?
Nope, it's definitely something that tastes better than those..
Most likely the word "entirety,"
because I'm feeling you,
me,
US,
in our entirety.
And it feels fucking fantastic.
Again,
fuck YOU dictionary.com,
I'll never need you again.
P.S.
You can delete yourself from my address bar
now,
because I'm okay if I never see you again.
disturbingly lovable scene
out of a PG Disney Movie!
This is sporadic teeth trying to
keep time with your clandestine heels,
and my lungs were
SUCH a
gossip at the time,
I could hardly offer you crafty
possibilities for the
badinage between our fingers.
But this isn't light.
What happened to the weightless words?
This is heavy-
as if you think that my 16 year young throat
could possibly cause ingenious
answers to flow past my lips.
My eyes have yet to adjust to this world-
ESPECIALLY
M I N E!
I haven't quite mastered the art of
carving patterns
to make everything fit together.
The milk carton in the trash can simply explains it all,
though, really.
Perhaps if I wasn't so absorbed in your brain,
I would've noticed the feather
under the
"HAVE YOU SEEN ME?"
sign that seemed to slap a person in the face whenever reading it-
as if we didn't know that someone could ever "be" missing.
There WERE aliens for a reason, right?
And I know my skin isn't cold from the Summer chill,
contradictions aside, but you know it's there.
You're expecting something essential
to the equation of US...
But, like I said,
I smoke cigarettes as if they're life preservers
so I can't possibly find myself answering any time soon.
Besides,
I've searched everywhere-
hell, even dictionary.com-
but I can not find the perfect definition of US.
You've been away for a while,
and, I think, maybe, just maybe,
you're hearing this moral dilemma I'm giving to myself in
narrative form.
It's absurd, really:
all of this coming from one question
that would seem arbitrary to others.
But,
you keep a thesaurus under your tongue
and a book of riddles behind your teeth,
so I was sort of expecting this.
After all,
you ARE as subtle as slitting throats.
My liver is getting itchy.
It's not filtering the irritation of you expecting me to
somehow know EVERYTHING!
And, really, why should I click my heels faster?
You were the one trying to choke back those sounds.
Chewing my cheek was more than
just a thought process-
"It's okay,"
you whispered, and, ahhh, there's that subtlety again. "I know the answer."
My feet must have decided that
they were done gaining mileage.
You fucking losers,
I had an inkling you would betray me.
And your timing was impeccable,
really, it was.
"No...no no no no no no no,"
and even my neck is fighting against my brain;
shaking to the point where
I thought I might just get
whiplash.
Note to Self, because I know you're listening;
contact a repair man-
you're obviously on the fritz.
I can't really stop them-
the words- you know?
They're pouring out.
It's like trying to stop an epileptic seizure
at this point,
and
I'm pretty sure you know this,
because you step a good foot
away
from me.
My eyes have yet to adjust to this world-
ESPECIALLY
M I N E!
I haven't quite mastered the art of
carving patterns
to make everything fit together.
The sandpaper in my mouth
flicks across my lips,
and my fingers start playing with
themselves.
Fuck dictionary.com,
I've got my answer.
"Nothing rhymes with orange.
I know, believe me, I do,
But...but I'd like if everything could-
staring NOW."
The cracks in my lip are being filled
with..
who knows?
Spit?
Your tongue?
Nope, it's definitely something that tastes better than those..
Most likely the word "entirety,"
because I'm feeling you,
me,
US,
in our entirety.
And it feels fucking fantastic.
Again,
fuck YOU dictionary.com,
I'll never need you again.
P.S.
You can delete yourself from my address bar
now,
because I'm okay if I never see you again.