GET FREE

i kissed yr neck while you werent looking. surprise, party

i guess it's not easy in the 21st century. we've all all got this to deal with. we've all all begun to look around. maybe the girl you love leaves and though you don't know if you love her ever enough (as if that's a sign) you go out and seek, you dip like a return to oz, you wander and fall down behind a cafe, closed. and one day you welcome it in.

i kiss your knees as you go swimming, i count your shapes when they have gone. Maybe a deep desperate desperado want. i keep it. like i want to own it. you, as much un-ownable as any or ever. when when i guess. win win. work at eleven, oh! and how the old becomes new and you'd known it all along like a sour apple toothpick you once sold as a kid amongst the others back in seventh, half way finding a good way to be although constantly worried and vastly disoriented but we almost always are, i guess. the aurors, i mean. the tiny saviors who've got no place to be.

a new glimpse of the future, girl

where i'm kissing yr neck, laughing, and we get married wearing shades on the back of an elephant, paul simon waving with tears in his eyes from a hill nearby, A$AP rocky filming the whole thing for his new video as we disappear into the woods following the river where henri matisse was born

here i am

lord, ah, knocking at yr place of busi- ness

someday baby

you ain't gonna have to worry about me any more (jamaica, jamaica)

leave everything

behind, again

clear light

of bliss

and myself hurrying to a plank

where all the angels dove off
and flew into the holy
void, and myself hurrying to a
plank
where all the angels dove off
and flew
into the holy void, and myself
hurrying
to a plank
where all the angels
dove off
into the holy void

time held me

green and dying,
though i sang in my chains
like the sea.


-Dylan Thomas

you are

an angel with wet feet from the creek
where i saw you standing alone
humming not in a scary way but i'm
from california and afraid to be truly alone
so i said nothing and turned to go
but you spoke to me, asked
me my name and i stuttered at first but composed
myself, said 'ryan' then changed to 'hume,'
thinking it better, fuck gosling
(who wouldn't) and the sun shining
through your weird halo called me like a
batsignal and we stood quietly smiling as the

crickets chirped at dusk.

all girls fancy

themselves good singers.
all guys,
pretty decent at
guitar.