trust me, babe

[big baby]

the moment was so existentialist. I brought 3 apples.
one for the both of us. & 1 for the road
if it comes up I suppose we could split it
undisclosed disposition. hanging from the hammock ropes
in the stitching. there was hope, for half-robed demolition
bungalow; almost out of a dream- quite a bit intensive
fictitious; in the sense, paints peeling from white picket fences
Strange feeling, in front of the mowed lawn
in between the solstice of summer and spring
molded from the cumbersome explosions you’d bring
love when she hands me her half bitten apple - as if it comes with an asterisk.
an ad-lib example, of italics in the back of the index
take a bite out of the apple or take a bite out of me
fall in love in the castle. fall in drown to the sounds of the sea
comparisons to the moon - thought were drastically measured
but noticed high tide receded sunrise where my gravity centered
upset. I bite my lips till’ blood spills in the battlefront mist
not to inflict pain, but deflect the traces of that dispassionate kiss
teeth marks turn into tattoos covering the mistakes from the past
the china vase that bloomed flowers, but shattered, is only serrated as glass
like lately i feel, sort of amazing. yet displaced and unreal, unsanctioned
revealed. abated. idealistic adulation unveiled. just waiting
unrelated, too anxious to seal the tiny indiscreet places unfilled
out on the rock, by the creek. placing your hand on my cheek
detached since forever. you help me make these connections I seek
never thought i’d be formal, but make me feel normal. at least..
enthralled in coercion, your neglect changed me overall as a person
love was linear, so now i write love songs and sonnets in cursive
despondent. subversive. tire swing made from your 91′ Cherokee jeep
which showed me you still used parts from the past thrown away in the street
connective to the stylus of the records through music created
overuse of the grooves from the vinyl discarded my humanlike traits
describing an incentive to twist, a sigh and a scent of distress
its funny & sad, i write to remind myself to remember to live
if you’re reading this right now, i probably need to reevaluate my resolve
dissolve in the valium wake. retaliate from the maxims til’ i can barely walk
i could barely talk. my adolescence consisted of wishing i died.
living without really having lived, now i don’t even think im alive
now even feeling a feeling is feeling contrived
cause six feet seems like such a waste to shovel. just let the sediment dry
Chesterfield smoke on Elmora and 5th, such a vivid annoyance
beginning to fill my lungs with smoke, that i’ve come to avoid
now i play villain cause i just simply enjoy it