you're going to bed in your sleeveless shirts with your jeans still on, shoes even, maybe. i forget. you sleep downstairs now and once i slept on a couch above you and had to leave because what if i moaned your name in my sleep? when i was sleeping she said, "you better be doing it!" but we weren't and you said "just tell her we were and that it was so good." do you think i'm a fact checker or something?
we could take a walk or we could wait for snow and gaze upon the great green pine in our backyard from your bedroom window and watch white slowly, safely cover the colors and we could forget that there will be a tomorrow and act on every impulse because i know we both need soem sort of rejuvination.
I told him "we're the weirdos of this town" and he got real excited and said, "alriiight!" it's getting to the point where i'm nervous to crack right infront of you and almost everyday, i almost do, but now there's competition and close watchings and winning overs, but i already have an enemy and i think "i don't need any more of this in my life" but if the chance arose, if i should be so graced with such ridiculous desires, i would probably jump off of some height to keep from stopping my mouth from saying "yes" or i wouldn't and i would feel the kind of regret he felt in the morning, or even one single second after. just sing with me. okay? that's all i want anymore.
I think if you actually wanted to talk that we could for days without sleep but we'd have it to enjoy the comforts of this great life together. i really just need to get laid perhaps. and you're the only thing that comes to mind besides that black guy who was going to sing "superstitious" but didn't.
it was windy. i was jumpy. i put the sound into your ears and you gripped me hard with those big dark fucking eyes and i knew the words that that woman was singing in your ears and your stare as you listened was full of shiny stuff.