There is a patient guise over the thoughts that cause your teeth to grit.
Pheromones are increasing your heart rate until your lungs feel smaller.
Eyes cut through atmosphere and burry themselves in the goosebumps on your skin.
Blood congregates, changing the complexion of your face and neck, and
We begin to feel a choir short of a holy moment.
I feel as if God’s hand is pushing me in the back towards you.
What words could connect our burning thoughts?
Seduction is a language spoken by the devil and I need something pure.
If I bite my tongue I will only taste blood, so I will allow it to move freely.
I have been moved to show you that I need you deeply, but not in a way for you to complete me.
I just want a girl to fall asleep with and I think you’re dreamy.
I remember when I was seventeen washing dishes.
During my shift I asked a coworker to buy me a pack of cigarettes because I already developed the habit.
As my shift ends, I am presented a pack of american spirits as I requested.
I headed out to the parking lot and got in my car, locking the doors and taking off my shoes.
My hands, guarded by hemp bracelets from friends who could have been lovers, fill up a few one hitters.
Smelling like dishwater and an early 70’s festival, I pulled the sunroof open stepped out to the ground matter consisting of tar and gravel.
I rounded the corner of businesses to see people in their 30’s playing softball in front of a sunset river front landscape.
An aluminum ring echoed as I saw the winning run rounding second.
With my shoes in my hand, I watched the family support from the bleachers and it reminded me of when I played.
I walked down the strip of bars littered with construction workers and ladies who used to date band members.
They were pushing to redefine this part of town as a blues town but we only got to see blues one week out of the year.
People would ask me to be careful for broken glass and I assured that I was.
I made my way around the second half of the block, feeling the buzz of marijuana and nicotine mixing in my blood.
I chose to walk on the brick road because the side walk didn’t feel as well on my feet.
Making it back to my car, I see my family members on a smoke break.
They waved and I mirrored it while opening my door.
I drove back home to an unsuspecting mother who had offered me snacks.
She had the opportunity to see the person who is still here today but I wore my hair in front of my forehead then and she couldn’t see my eyes.
She didn’t know that I was already finding my escape from a job.
I kept this to myself so she didn’t know I wanted to wander on the streets and meet the counter culture I was shielded from.
It took her months to find cigarette ashes in my back seat from all the car rides I was singing songs about leaving this town.
I have been practicing blues guitar in my basement, hoping to find a way to redefine myself.
I still take off my shoes and smoke cigarettes on the brick road down the street.
Five years later, I used to think I was lost but I think I knew exactly where I wanted to be.
Deeply inhaling the cigarette smoke clinging to my fingers, I am reminded of the scent of love. It pulls my eyelids shut and vibrates my chest. Either the covers become heavy or I become frail from the fingers reimagined by the smoke that covers my room. Warm cheeks stretch a smile that I could hardly recognize. How sincere it is to receive free feelings to internalize. How blessed I am to remember when I was baptized. What it means to have a mattress side and how it feels inches from someone who could taste so sweet. The kind of person that can put a tweak in your feet. It felt like I had been asleep for a week until you grabbed on to me. It feel like the cycles complete.
Stuck with a hangover that is as bad in my stomach as it is in my head,
I am left with a bite mark on my shoulder.
I would have tattooed it there if you were a different person,
But I still rub my finger over it and wondering if I missed the foreshadow.
Beers at nine in the morning tasted good with you.
I had only shared the bond with one other friend before.
Naps on the couch were hopeful.
So many girls had made me sweat through my clothes before,
But being drunk can be a terrible thing.
If it weren’t for the demons who hide inside us
It could just be seen as childish,
But there they stay until your unconscious being pulled by strings.
They slur the words you’d never thing of.
They laugh about the things you will cry about tomorrow.
They are ugly but they are a part of us.
I’ve tried to excuse myself plenty of times,
But I’m glad you didn’t try the same.
You couldn’t believe what you did,
But I believe you felt shame.
It could have been bad timing,
Or maybe we would always encounter this.
It’s possible that two people can be bad for each other,
Despite it making sense for love to come out of it.
I try not to think too deeply into it
Because I know I did my best.
The impression of your teeth will change colors,
And it will be less swollen tomorrow.
I’ll choose to think of it like the most heart turning short film
And appreciate the art of how quickly you can be comfortable then
I would have hated you when I was younger
But I am no longer a little boy.
I can forgive girls who are different when they are drunk.
And I don’t really want to,
But I know that I should,
And that’s what I’ll do now.
I’ll put you on a canvas,
And admire the time that I thought I had you.
My lips that grip the cigarette,
Flick it I’ll still have the rest,
I’ve tried many times to quit
But there was always bullshit
That wrangled up my change
And bought another pack.
You wish that I would take you back,
But unlike my cigarettes,
Any time I feel some stressed
You never cross my mind.
My rib still hurts more or less,
And I still get depressed,
Despite that I feel refreshed
I can smoke my cigarettes just fine.
I can’t stop regret,
But there’s no need to fret,
Just smoke another cigarette
And I will fade away in time.