Heavy words with wooden woes, we walked to curse our angry foes

I can't wash the ink off our bodies
the memories sting into me like a tattoo
an impenetrable disease
that I can't even contemplate

I can't help doubting me
but doubting you is unquestionable
these feelings are more than just strong
and this poem is turning out like shit
the boy of my dreams or just last nights coincidence

In the shower it was better
bluer than the water in the sea
or the lake and the sewer in my dreams
The whole time, I wanted to surprise you and jump in,
but i was weak

I need you and I'm one more than three
It hurts so much to be your statistic
but I can't help feeling different, they do too.
I'd say I'd understand it, but that would be a lie
and an error of bad judgment. This nausea inside
is twisted, sick and poetically alive.

beautiful, like you.

I've wanted this for so long
not to be tied down and wanting you
just wanting. you.
But just like those pancakes, I'm afraid,
that the counter arrows are one way,
that maybe it's better this way, you with her
I'll wait.
what would it feel like to be satisfied.
To have expectancies, to be tied down,
and lied to.
Laying in the oceans of our sin, but much more
dramatic anyways.

I miss your letters, but your faults seem to be working out for you
ones that only the experienced can name, that and the other thing.
I don't mind being inferior
to the likes of you
you couldn't change anything
I'm not a tool...or yours anyways.
but just a desperate friend
waiting and watching. you.

I understand how you could hold on to it,
I understand how you could love them more.
Monogamy, I've learned is such a bore.
What would it be like to be the girl,
I can be with others, the don't alter my world
the way looking at you does.
The leaves, the conversations in depth.
The laughter, the inevitable attractions, screaming your name
in torture, to not just to me and to you.

I fell in love with a boy long ago
I seem to shake everything else off,
but it seems to stick, like you
the walls, The music, and the room reeks of our hair.

Oh to suck it off.

This journey seems long
but we've stated we're not letting go of anything.
It mustn't end.
I'm not the only one in need,
and even though I may feel like the others,
I'd walk away if I had to.
I'd feel the same, and yearn for the end.
I'm waiting, watching
merely observing a dream.

are you dead or are you sleeping
you look so cute in different eras
in lullabies, and rooms of wooden barrels.

how does this story end,
and when ending it, how am I suppose to shake it.
shake you. Fuck it, lets wait for it to be over
this tea, these trees. Lets go back to bed
and think about it tomorrow
oh if it would only come.