sunday nights are the dryest

From the lips without passion
To the lips with a kiss
There's nothing of your love
That I'll ever miss
The stain on my notebook
Remain all that is left
Of the memory of late nights
And coffee in bed

I'm making a concious decision to be a better person, and I'm starting with cupcakes. I added food coloring because it's my birthday on Tuesday. But it turned black, because I added all the food coloring I had. Then I ate this butter straight out of the tub, because it tastes good. There's a reason behind everything.

It's hard to take a devil-worshipper seriously when he writes "ALL HAIL THE GREAT SATIN" on the walls in animal blood. Just like it's hard to take that "Lady in Red" song seriously since it was in like 350839058 Lean Cuisine commercials.


I hardly know
this beauty by my side
I'll never forget
the way you look, tonight.

That is my love song to the entire world. I remember at my dad's wedding I told the minister that the town of Evanston was founded by Methodists and he thought I was a loser. My hair is so oily right now that if I doused an otter in its moisture, let's just say he would be a dead man.

goosebumps and tired eyes

don't forget who's taking you home
and in whose arms you're gonna be
so darling
save the last dance for me

i'll be home someday, just in one week, dry up your tears if you start to weep, and sing this lullaby to yourself

It's like escaping a hot, bright room for the serenity of a city at night, covered in snow.
People eliminated. A carpet of silence
for taxies to whisper across.
The world becoming
a pleasant dream of itself. The itch
of want smoldering to life on skin. Memory sends
a chill vanishing between vertebrae.
It's New Year's Eve. Hail the Calendar!
As if clocks will pause for a moment
before reloading their long rifles.
Years are tinyfreckles on the face of a century.
Where is the constellation we gazed at each night
Through a bill rolled so tight the first President los his breath
as our eyeballsliterally unraveled? I am alone
in the rectangular borough in the observatory,
where even fire trucks can't rescue
the arsonist stretching his calves in my brain.