unattainable, quick long nights where our hearts filled up with wine and your lips so soft and what i wanted was to touch every crevice from your head to your shoulders. what i should of thought, you are another boy brun and even this old key hanging from my neck can't open you.

i told you i fell out of heaven maybe for being lustish and maybe to enamored and beguiled.

and perhaps i saw you smile or smirk at that in the car and i wanted accidents or traffic so i could grasp you from the wheel and make feel how cold i was even if we made sure not to track the white clean snow back inside.

apparently, and shortly i thought i saw these lights in your eyes when the sun went down over the mountain and you were driving far to fast. but that strange night in your bed you pretended to sleep while i kissed you real fast for your dreams and wreckful sleeping soul.

i'm not sure if i can feel sorry for slightly yelling at you to leave or sitting on the ground in front of you with all the pain falling from my mouth and displeasure because you could could could of been so very good but like lightning in and out and around doesn't fade but blows out swiftly like a candle.

so now i'm here listening to sounds of euphoria and soaking up rain water and amphetamines, swinging gently hopeful of change and newness and long hair spreading out upon a ocean of tranquil nights, praying for turquoise and red and purple.

i just want to be able to fall asleep easy, discover the joys of loosing weight, read and have ornate pretend worlds in my head and playful dripping wandering words and sentences to fall across my eyelids. forget about all of this mal de coucou and such.