sounds like a song, and smells like rain. reads like a book on an eastbound train. your breath is short, like the heat of a match. in my ear, and on my neck. take this, for what it is, the death of a summer sun in california, and smile as the streetlights, faded in the coastal fog, break through bedroom blinds and dance quietly on your empty ceiling. watch as they expand like stars, exploding in the night sky. let them land, trace constellations into the soft skin on the back of your neck. then slip to the edge of the bed and sink into the cold sheets, white heat, summer love that you never knew existed. summer love. tastes like coffee and feels no pain. reads like a book on a westbound train.
waking up on this side of paradise, once again, new friends, we’ll do it again. now we’re driving a million miles an hour, we cut a soft scar into the desert’s skin, already cracked with the heat of the interstate. and we breathe, nicotine, stale teenage breath, the beer we had for dinner still wet on our tongues. there’s a religion in the way we scream our father’s names into the star fucked night sky. hanging empty, out the backseat window. and quiet, a love song plays on the radio, it casts the only light for a thousand miles. dim, and green, on lonely passenger faces. glistening wet in our eyes. we’re all moving soon. we know. summer’s ending soon. we know. we’ll die. we know. passed out on wood floors in neighboring apartments on the east side. blacking out in casino elevators in the white hot heat of las vegas. we’re going to see eachother again. each drag off our cigarettes is hot with the knowledge of a far off reconciliation. we’ve got our whole generation in the back seat of this shit car. and we’re running on empty, but we smile. lifted with the knowledge of love, or something like it. on the other side of paradise. we’ll meet again.
this is how we learn. waking up in the bedrooms of strangers. in the arms of giants. in empty college dorms on the edge of the universe. my fatigue is ivy league. do you know what i’m saying? can’t remember much, but can’t say it was worth the wait. the things i’ve learned and the things i’ve said. every day of my life. i’m running around in the shapes of letters that spell infinity. i trip, and my shoes are never tied, and it feels a lot like the way that i drained every metaphorical pool in every city this side of the bruised and aging mountains. to the left of the world, where the dandelions grow old, bearded in the summer heat, and balding with the winter winds. waking up in the bathrooms of airplanes. in the hands of losers. in crowded hotel lobbies at the center of the city. my concerns, are lessons learned. every day of my life. spent choking on stars, and speeding cars. on the angelfucked rooftops of the cheapest bars. said the pain was all in vain. that there was nothing to gain. but i tilt my head to the summer rain. until the backyard stains, are washed away, for another day. i am young, but i’ve been burned. and i have yearned, and its my turn. this is how we learn.
“send until the end.
you don’t want a friend.
you want a picture of one.
just tell me when you’re done.
and i’ll send you a post card.
its not hard,
what you want, grab it.
i’m the white rabbit.”—
everybody is sleeping with the caged animals. give me religious relevancy. bruised lips, bottle sips. sobriety broken before three in the afternoon. do you know what i’m saying? give me a black-out tendency. too pretty to die. too fucking crazy to keep breathing. and everybody is fucking with the caged animals. this is every day of my life. jaw broken, soft spoken. give me sexual deviancy. give me a little bit more. for a little bit less. do you know what i’m saying? think twice, same price. i’m right, you’re wrong. and everybody is killing the caged animals. give.it.to.me.
hanging lonely out the backseat window. road trip, road maps in the palms of tired hands. a wrinkled smile. pretty paper face. every place, we plan to go. and the places that we don’t. interstate, interplanetary. enter fate, extraordinary. do you know what i’m saying. i want to get the fuck out of here, and call it for the better.