One of those days when you walk across the street without looking, hoping a bus will hit you. One of those days.

Break me, break me, bones and all. Crush me into dust and I’ll rest inside your lungs. There’s no other way for us to be closer.

Miss it Miss it, when it wasn’t. Miss it Miss it I find my own places. I fight my own doubles. Don’t look there Here — taste me instead. I’m creating, move out the way. Know your place. Missing it. I miss it.

Meet me, make me, dip where it’s clear. Open meadows and fields below stars are where I bury my friends, my drugs, my fears. They say The smile They pick We choose what we can’t lose. They take They taste They worship us to dust.

Face me, please. Worked up a sweat on my way home. I made it all the way to blue skies. Turn around, please. See what I see? Purple tainted windows. Look there, please. See what becomes when you care. I’m mostly here. Meet me, please. Mostly, I’m here.

Switch me to Sundays. I’ll only be there when you call. Tight on my waist. Portion sized. Filled to the brim. Catch me when I want to go further. I promise, there’s levels to my looks. Take it on. Nothing less than freedom. For your favor, knees dipped. I won’t be there when it crumbles, knees dipped. I won’t be there. I’m a motorboat, an F1 — you know the type. Vroom vroom mother fucker.

Powerful Careful Meat on a Sunday — Delicious. I’ll make you that sandwich, I’ll reheat those embers, I’ll bake your cells until there’s nothing left but slush and serotonin. Miss me, I’ll miss you. I’ll wish you were less careful. Ouch, and onward.

it sucks we could have had it all you never reach out we may never see each other again.