There may be a hive mind between what’s beautiful and acceptable

Between true love and charlatans that kiss for a month hold hands and explode

The bow tie on your lips match the clavicle of a thousand others but salvia is so individual and I can taste you apart during the most crowded party.

The clouds look different after we split the sky not beautiful bubbles, just sacks of rain, things that could have been a has been a never was in the sky collected god with our dreams awfully never letting us be successful, god forbid a big break for a model or a writer or a painter.

 I can picture it now I can picture it now I can picture it now my flower sheets between the angels and me pretty pretty pretty 

 It’s finally romance season with melancholy on walks that bring me uptown. The bus goes across I never will ever in my life have a place to be. There’s a beauty in drifting knowing hearts can never lead to somewhere positive if you can accept a smile. My age is showing aging in a youth culture it’s alarming heart attacks happen swift 

Between the love and me/the posi to starving and attraction.

I’m soooo obsessed with love and the concept of loyalty I learned how to hate before a tongue I can’t forgive mistakes I don’t acknowledge the ones I make (im flawed ugly)  it’s misery by 60 love is a month, love fades, love is wilting, love is pretty tho accept after chest to chest the boring corpse of the years you gave don’t equate to much. Find a fawn dig into beauty cure the moment empty empty 

Gentle deer legs

I could never be an artist the last thing I drew were gentle deer legs traced from a laptop I stole

the hoofs were light the knees were heavy they were so ugly I never tried again. Painting is empty

Maybe I should call my brother 

This suppose to sing like a song but I’m not gonna cut it up cuz I don’t have my laptop

 You love a Xanax dropout you love him on drums Philadelphia must be so much more fun than working women downtown on essex or heart attack patients covering powder on our bodies dreaming of me and you if were together we could be somebody 

Neglect is beautiful I got my eyebrows done I haven’t eaten in days and il go home with anyone I’m starving to death my phone is so gross I stare and scroll so the numbers go up il win in anything 

I’m not a never was I’m the most poetic has been

When your best love comes who does tattoos or some loser from Texas who can’t write a song about anything new  you can think of me in my ugly room so small and horrid with roaches. Can’t hold a job, no one can believe I can make a drink you can stop and think that if someone held my hand this whole plan could change.

Junkies are boring alkies are worse swallow just like me but why am I always okay? It’s so lonely to walk near Forsyth and their eyes cross, I am the only one that can get us home safe it’s not a back and fourth my liver rots, youl be healthy, but I’m the worst.

The most pathetic has been