7.22.2007

The crash kicks

Love. love. love.

Sick and shivering. pink pills and all making their way through the bubbling last of this weekend system and all i can think is that there are times like forever to hold her and tell her all the fucking things i ever wanted to whisper into the sky. mark the night.

But i can't now. i'm battered. worn down the punk rock and wishing i could sleep already but the goddamn fast break isn't cutting it quick enough this time so i listen. over and over.

Knowing she's down there. the words already written somewhere like teenage notebook dreams.

Carved in arms and trees. stained ink.

Lifted our best.

And singing.

Does That Make Sense.mp3

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