got an inkling of that feeling
you were talking bout
drew you in a dress
way after your jean days
kept my fingers in my pockets the whole week you were in oakland
stupid stupid

and i promise 500 years from now, carbon dating will be the only thing to seperate us.

silly secret rhymes
to an unfinished four track rap
that you set down years ago
for lack of art
convenientized touched and
it's all a mess
you couldn't shoot the deer,
fess up fess up
tidal waves of spit to
submerge ourselves in distant lovings
instant rolling
so disney magical
have the final word
left on right side bed table
drawers bold black ink
dear john speak
you don't have to take

you cut my throat.
you stole my eyes.
i felt your shape.
i know your size.