and she said "it made so much more sense in my head". fuck you.

Correspondences

November 4, 2011

.

You speak to me, like letters sent

by darts.

.

Tacked on bar walls, holes in cardboard boxes.

.

You were always too cheap to stink like

cheap cigars.

.

Oh, baby, you wanna take my hand?

You wanna be subconscious,

unknowing, don't go,

it's an easy target,

I'm your bull's eye.

.

I was always too weak to look like

me.

.

So I took the chisel

to build myself a shell.

And now I'm comfortable here,

conversing of the same old stories

to be compatible.

To be replaceable.

.

That's all I ever wanted to be,

replaceable.

And comfortable

in that garbage can

you reserved

for me.

.

You speak to me

like waiters in busy,

oversimplified restaurants,

and I'm making money off this?

.

What do I look like to you?

I never knew I had an image,

a likeness similar to those

on Earth.

.

I never knew, I was real.

.

Finding quarters in what used to be twenty's.

.

It's just me, it's just me.

.

It seems that when you visit,

my grave gets dug

so much faster.