(no subject)
The lady loves me, but she doesn’t know it yet
let´s meet on sunday. i´ll pull up in my big blue cardboard car and honk three times in a bassy sequence. you can run to the open door and hop in quick, sighing with the falling rain. we´ll go bowling and i´ll whistle without knowing it untill you get anoyed because my shoes are squeeking on the waxy floor and there´s just to much fucking noise. i´ll stop, but we both know i´ll start up again.
then maybe i can buy you italian food. garlic bread´s my favorite.
-
let´s walk our dogs together after a sunny day in late july. we can do it at night, once the moon´s come up and the pavement is still steaming from the days heat. it´ll be the kind of night where you have to wear a sweater because the wind is sour and biting, but you wouldn´t even think about wearing shoes.
then maybe i´ll ask you to marry me.
-
let´s fall in love and move to a california coast.
we can grow peaches and sit on our porch in bare feet, smoke cigerettes in rolled up jeans and listen to our own laughter.
real laughter though, the kind that comes from falling in love and moving to a california coast.
we´ll never go to france, because we´d have to leave the dog with friends and who can stand to take their eyes off the starry sky, even for just- one- minute.
and we both know about those fucking french, the way they roll their eyes.
the ocean, because i love to swim and bob and taste the salt on my lips, and you love to drop sand from the cracks between your fingers.
you can photograph it all. I´ll build frames from balsa wood and leftover pipecleaners, smear on acrylic paint and oil pastels. We can send them to your mom for christmas.
let´s do it.
-
p.s. Today reeked of monotomy. it sucked and i´d kill it if i didn´t want to save my last bullet for myself.
i miss my friends and i miss girls and i miss love.
i miss it so bad my soul´s started to sting.
let´s meet on sunday. i´ll pull up in my big blue cardboard car and honk three times in a bassy sequence. you can run to the open door and hop in quick, sighing with the falling rain. we´ll go bowling and i´ll whistle without knowing it untill you get anoyed because my shoes are squeeking on the waxy floor and there´s just to much fucking noise. i´ll stop, but we both know i´ll start up again.
then maybe i can buy you italian food. garlic bread´s my favorite.
-
let´s walk our dogs together after a sunny day in late july. we can do it at night, once the moon´s come up and the pavement is still steaming from the days heat. it´ll be the kind of night where you have to wear a sweater because the wind is sour and biting, but you wouldn´t even think about wearing shoes.
then maybe i´ll ask you to marry me.
-
let´s fall in love and move to a california coast.
we can grow peaches and sit on our porch in bare feet, smoke cigerettes in rolled up jeans and listen to our own laughter.
real laughter though, the kind that comes from falling in love and moving to a california coast.
we´ll never go to france, because we´d have to leave the dog with friends and who can stand to take their eyes off the starry sky, even for just- one- minute.
and we both know about those fucking french, the way they roll their eyes.
the ocean, because i love to swim and bob and taste the salt on my lips, and you love to drop sand from the cracks between your fingers.
you can photograph it all. I´ll build frames from balsa wood and leftover pipecleaners, smear on acrylic paint and oil pastels. We can send them to your mom for christmas.
let´s do it.
-
p.s. Today reeked of monotomy. it sucked and i´d kill it if i didn´t want to save my last bullet for myself.
i miss my friends and i miss girls and i miss love.
i miss it so bad my soul´s started to sting.