social hangover:

morning after
the sobering up
oh god what have i done

does sitting in a silent room with people
ever make you wonder why anyone likes you;
because i get that feeling now

both as in,
get where you are coming from
and having contracted the disease

love poem

love is like a yo-yo:
i don't get the appeal
am bad at it and
fuck you

growing apart

implications
that we were ever
growing closer
more than walking together, and
going our separate ways

tootles, motherfucker

[headphones]

umbilical chord, cord, cordial, ah
souvenir, from years, for years

leaning towards the right
oh the ears

around the neck

soundwaves like spears


untangle this mess, ah
veritable train wreck

Matching quote

"A gentleman doesn't pounce ... he glides. If a woman sits on a piece of furniture which permits your sitting beside her, you are free to regard this as an invitation, though not an unequivocal one."