youth

kill your lover so you’ll always have their ghost

gaping spaces bleached with sun

and ice in paper cups

drizzled with fake fruit

far too sweet.

you were my companion,

but the theater was closed.

four hundred and fifty stairs to the top,

to nothing

but empty rooms

waiting to be filled with sighs.

river plants hanging low

tried to stop the boat,

and if we weren’t careful

the sky would swallow us whole.

lines burned into my back

made my eyes heavy,

made me want to sleep in dark

air conditioned bedrooms

where we could build secret worlds

and live there alone together.

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kill some time with me (violently, please)

tiny planets where everything is gray

hold on!

someone is listening.

the laundry hung to dry

reminds you of rain.

take cover

in the turret you always wanted,

leaving

glasses of water for the cat

to knock over.

your days your days your days

what fills them?

 

fuck vapor wave kids

 

dopamine crawling

down my spine

the sky is nothing

this drive is nothing

here is an empty convention center

with microorganisms painted on the carpet

space to move

I hate it so much when you die

so stop dying

rusting beams and

a sunrise to match

golden golden golden gold

let your hair grow

this is the tropics for crissakes