A mans best friend is not a man or a dog.
Telling me that you care is just one of a million things.
She tells me stories that Mother Goose would kill for.
We speed down the highway, and I still can’t get a commitment.
Wish I was taking a vacation in a month. Don’t ask don’t tell.
We spent weeks at a time together.
Will it stop being the latest issue of the newspaper?
My favorite night this year was in May.
I expected to forget what I went for, and then I found her.
The reasoning behind all of this is grounded in bad punk records.
She is short. She just waves at me.
Her favorite song was my favorite song 10 years ago.
I hate to think that I am not clear all the time 24 hours a day.
We smoke heroin because we don’t talk to each other anymore.
She is short as well. Real smart. I can’t believe I was in awe of her at one point. “She’s one of us” we say.
There was a small pile of dirt left at my door, methodically placed there to get to me. I hear them out there.
She made me think back to six years ago and go over all sorts of letters and notes.
I have a series of things I need to always do. Never walk down stairs in front of anyone.
My guitar sits there now rusty and out of tune, waiting to be completely retired at any minute.
She sends me messages I never delete
We talk and talk and when it gets down to waking up in the morning, I still have the book open.
I lose touch with people for a day and I feel like an exhaust pipe.
The best thing I remember was looking over and realizing the mountain would not tell me I had a call.
She looked best in the morning. Once a girl can look that good, that early, an inch away, she has me.
We make out and never talk about anything. Nobody knows, and nobody ever will.
She is on my mind more than she’s in my mind.
The other thing I need to do is always flush the toilet when I leave a bathroom, no matter what I did.
Long letters from her are rare but truthful.
It always feels like this when I get around to talking about it. Clear and concise.
I watch them smoke many attractive cigarettes in fifteen minutes.
I acted like I was one of them. I acted like I meant it. I asked for paper.
They complain and complain, wonder if they’ve ever smiled
Once they break in though, they have me. I never let them break in.
I swear I never want anyone to get hurt. I’m always good hearted in the long run.
She wears this shirt that makes me just want to watch television with her.
We had a good time, and then I went on my way. Two more tornadoes, and a brush with the police.
Every morning I need to look out the window for two minutes before shower.
The key is to flip it when you can see that it’s not stuck to the pan.
They are out there, arranging more piles of sand to fuck with me. I hear them.
Disgusting dudes with no cocks.
I take these days in stride now, you can tell me if I am “too much for your mirror”.
I was almost attacked by Stevie Nicks riding a Unicorn last night.
Blues music is my only outlet now. It sucks when you’re not allowed to spit in private.
The night he died.
I wonder how many have tried to forget they even met me
She was scared as a bunny rabbit on crystal meth.
Phil Collins.
Right now, I feel like I could jump out this window and fly.
She, the song by Kiss.
I wish I could run on back to Virginia Beach right now. The only place I’ve ever felt so shitty and so good.
I’m perplexed at how they operate. It’s almost like trying to teach a duck to write poetry.
I never got to cook tons of meals like I wanted to.
There are more than one ways over the moat.
I would piss people off at work, and then ignore them until I face them at the copy machine. Three nails at a time.
I opened up my eyes today. More than they’ve ever been open before.
She made her way in, and looked around, and realized she couldn’t redecorate.
I only lied seventeen times today
The last time I was at an amusement park I fell of the merry-go-round. Now I see stars over everyone.
I knew it was wrong.
We talk about what it will be like to walk around Heaven on Quaaludes.
She has a funny way about her. Even when she is angry with me.
Some day I will stop looking at the hand obsessively.
We walk and argue about who fucked less people.
I knew she was bad news when she asked me if I liked “The Fucking Doors”
Massachusetts has a funny way about making you feel like a goddamn loser.
We play phone tag, and I play connect the dots.
Wait, I think we just killed each other.
I hate them, and when they look at you like they do.
I need to open doors at the bottom of staircases after they have been properly closed.
Wait until I show them all
He comes home, checks his messages, and checks his arms. Everything is there, he sleeps.
That faggot Mark
We drink and I make pretend I’m interested. This is how we get along.
She takes her pretty time while I look at old scratch marks on my left arm.
Finally I find her, and she ignores my eye contact.
Once you have them down, you need to start again. It’s so tedious now.
In your spare time, you should not do what you do in your spare time. You are losing.
Married and never happier, yeah okay.
It’s funny how many times I doubted what was happening to me. Now I write instructions.
The way it goes is this: you work for me, I work for you, and the money goes to the house.
I should probably be worried about this.
Gifts I never gave or received, how sad it that?
He tells me I should go for it. I ask him what he has invested in this. “----- -- ----- --- --------“.
Rain came and I shit my pants.
Not sure if I want to die on cement, or a bed.
I met her and immediately made phone calls the next morning.
My one and only way to catch on is to just move on. Look, I know what you’re doing.
We spent time on the rocks, frozen.
We pretend we don’t see each other, and then I fuck it up.
So exhausted I have to be awake when I sleep.
My one last hope for survival, hmm
We walk on red bricks.
Taking time off from time.
She looked at me once.
It’s lonely out here.
Massachusetts.
Evenings.
Lonely.
Never.
Done.
Out.
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