This is the way they’d love if they knew how misery loved me
It’s kind of funny the way we’re wearing anchors on our shirts,
When being anchored or bored just feels more like a curse.
The shades of blue in the room are tricking time,
But there are different tones of green seeping into the veins.
First bend of the course.
And everything’s on time,
With some unintended backfires.
But no heart, no loss.
As long as the room keeps singing, that’s just the business I’m in.
Bad time to grow one too.
Almost letting go and almost going.
A quick palms up and a mistake of clamming up.
- Tell the boys where to find my body; New York eyes, Chicago thighs.-
