-painful means to a happy ending-

i like lighting candles until the wicker sears through the floorboards.

would you rather that i pretend to down this drink calmly? pretend to take my time? playing it cool is like praying 300 hail mary’s instead of 3.

i’ll play it cool and let you come to me. but you never will. we’ll pretend to kiss, let it all go like you would an urge to piss. there’s nothing to miss but the odd little rhymes that keep going until it’s 6am and we all need a little sleep.

when i said it– you heard me right. anything worth doing is worth doing until the universe crashes down like cheap chandeliers.

is there a god? am i listening to too much of your soundtrack’s pop sensibility? was it iron & wine, lucinda williams or kinnie starr singing it’s alright? well it’s not. it’s not alright.

connie francis lets it out– everybody’s somebody’s fool. and i’m yours, baby. i’m your fool, your designated bellhop serving in your imaginary hotels of hell, your whipping boy, pleasuring you with soothing tones of touch, with a wordless tongue, with lips that don’t hiss when i kiss your demon skin.

anything worth doing is worth doing until the hand of god leaves its mess on your junkyard city.

mr. buddha, there is no middle way– you fly or you fall– whichever way you end up– don’t stop and think.

just plunge in headfirst with the bloody passion of a burning spear and pray it doesn’t sting.

so come with me. let’s do something.

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