it seems like theres no colour to your sadness

no tinge of teal or magenta to those many things that boil up inside you that you never ever seem to tell to anyone

it seems as though your heart is lacking colour

and i wonder whether or no automatic doors open for you anymore

it seems as though the sky is bluer than your eyes once were which doesn't make sense to me because you could outblue anything

the grass is perfectly manicured much like everything on you and i wonder what it is to be unkempt sometimes

with my rolled eyes i show you my distaste, with my speedy exit i show you that i think that most of this was a terrible

waste

of time

i want something to hold onto

something suitable to float on until this downpour subsides

i remember seeing your face in multiple pixels

i remember thinking that i have you but he has that

and i remember....i remember....i forgot

i can't be i can't be i don't know what i am or whether or not this makes sense

i often wonder if i'm just a phase

when oh when will i be outgrown

i would like to

i would like to

i'm going to

click clack fast track i rhyme because i have nothing better to do currently

i'll write you a fifve hundred page science fiction novel written entirely about you, but it will be so shrouded in metaphor and simile that you won't be able to tell and it will remain my little secret

i often worry that i'm dying in one way or another and i probably am truth be told but i dunno i think we should go for frozen yogurt and maybe afterwards watch the stars and listen to say hi to your mom.

its raining and i want to go outside and spin and spin and spin and get really wet and feel cold and shocked and alive

i want to return soaked to the bone

i decided that i'm going to be a musician and be prolific and fantastic and i'll probably have groupie but i won't have sex with them because i believe in monogamy

theres no colour in your eyes anymore which makes me question everything and anything that i knew/know/will ever know

i'm thinking that dreams can sometimes not be as good as reality and i'm thinking and i'm thinking and i don't think that thinking is really all that good anymore

i'm thinking that action serves me better than thinking

i'm thinking that i need to do something impulsive

i'm thinking i'm gonna do something impulsive

i'm gonna do something impulsive

i went outside in the middle of the night and sat on these swings and i started swinging and swinging and swinging and didn't stop for anything. eventually the sun rose and i remembered a little what it means to watch a sunrise and the implications

were

startling

and on your dresser are books by authors you never really read and hair products that often keep you stylish but what is style when you don't have a heart

these sentences

they come from nowhere

i'm listening to that love inc song again because it reminds me of being little and innocent and excited and taking a really hot shower, wiping the steam off the mirror and wondering what i'm gonna be when i get older

i went and i sat in the middle of the road and the rain beat down on my back and the kids from across the street shot off fireworks that looked massive and terrifying because the water in my eyes made them look bigger than fiction

and for a minute everything

every single fucking thing

was very

very

climactic