I want to drive a lot,
I want things to go by, fast.
I want time to be, relative.
and perhaps I will hit upon a road,
where I may drive quicker then sound.

and the sound of your moans and our,
(love making) with blur. and I will not remember,
what my name sounds like when you are,
breathless and, filled with colors . (in me)

I want to hold the book you gave me in my lap,
and crinkle the ends of the pages, (and later feel terrible for it.)
while I wait, for the phone to come alive with your name.

and just maybe I will throw up, all the words you fed me.
and I will be a lot less, whole because of it.
and perhaps, this will make me brave.

for now, I can't do anything.
as it's the last day of summer,
and I'm too high, and you're too drunk.
to really give much of a damn,