boys from newyork
and the ones that don't snort coke and
the ones that don't say it
they don't say that they hate you
they love you, they need you the
next day they betray you
i don't know him, i never should
i never will, i never could
but both of us know that the
connection never went cold
with his turtle smileys how they
were the cutest thing
apart from him
he showed me people lie and
hate and they love
they love without knowing the things
that they break
one flavor of axe that he al-ways buys
can i have your phone number, i want
to hear you, i want to
be close to you
the illusion of being close
to you.
mapquest is biting, informing me of miles
seven hundred and fifty two of them
towards the open ocean
towards the collapse of my knees to
my feet, i want to be with you, i want to
be within your proximity, but i will
oh, i will break--
inanimate objects
and my own breath
you will shatter me, calling me, your
buddy neda from chicago
i want to show you off and sell you off
show me off i would never sell you off.
your virtual presence makes me shake
the potential tantrum, the prediction, don't make
it sound easy.
boys from newyork, they are my favorite kind
unable to get over
unable to let go--
unable.
the good days from bad days, you never
can tell.
they are my favorite kind, the boys from newyork,
named Justin Newell.