Monday, April 27, 2009

Fluff

I. I wish to paint you as soon as this song is over, my collection always has something to offer. I just thought it might impress you, only with you though, only with you. I bought you a kitty yesterday, and here’s to hoping you’ll call me anytime now. The bones in my fingers are broken from crossing them.

II. The magnitude of this, well, it just can’t get any better. I revel in my thirst, you are desirable and this is magic for the nonbelievers. You smile, I want to dance. You deserve good, I want to deliver. You are more to me than definitions allow, and I can be anywhere with what you do for me.

III. Our voices were lost over the course of this untwisted telephone line, and my foolishness has left me heartbroken. We reached places of thought I could have never reached alone, and now I sit alone. I think of you more than I should, can I see you?

IV. I like what you’ve done with your hair. I’m embarrassed, tell me your stories.

There’s no place in my life for you.

3 comments:

Russell Maycumber said...

The garden of solitude and the dessert of lonliness, I guess Rilke contemplated this atlas...

Russell Maycumber said...

I hate spelling it sux. I guess loneliness can be sweet as well...

Matt Crawley said...
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