our deal / best coast
when you leave me you take away everything
you take all my money you take all my weed
n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.
You don’t always have to be the boy.
Just today. Don’t ask me to make a fist when I am not angry.
After all, it isn’t what you say or how you say it, so much as I am
the kind of person who will be weather if you ask nicely."
— Being The Boy, Gina Gail
I know the music
I seem to need each day is just shaking grains
against the three wired bones of my inner ear.
I know in the glistening cold serenity
of the outside world, we are just two
brief blips of wet electricity,
just part of a random, plummeting fall
that is the slow fire of my life,
a nexus of error that is my thought,
love pulsing out its permanent signal:
Age of Discovery, Dean Young
I posted the whole poem 14 seconds ago but this end is sickening.