the rhythm of each jaded love profession,
swimming in the black light, floundering
beneath every too-sharp note.
Each scribble, each black line and I am
kissing you.
You are the plant that the sun has dried out,
the unwashed laundry that's piling up
on my floor like a mountain, the
tinfoil that hasn't improved the reception at all.
The mixed tape
still playing, I think,
soon as the ink dries,
I'll clean up and move on.
Author notes
Not sure- the songs I was listening to while writing this. Not the best I've ever written, not the worst- okay though, I think.
So I will run
Until my feet don't touch the ground
And as the waves carry me out
Keep listening~Mayday Parade-Ocean and Atlantic
Where are you now?
As I'm swimming through the stereo
I'm writing you a symphony of sound
Where are you now?
As I rearrange the songs again
This mix could burn a hole in anyone
But it was you I was thinking of~Jack's Mannequin-The Mixed Tape
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
This was great I liked it a lot. Keep up the great work.

Amber -
oh btw: this is just a rough draft...and by rough I mean rough...i sat down and this is what you have...i'm too tired to go over it though...tomorrow's friday so i'll do that then...night all...

