I unplug all the neon
turn the ringer off the phone
throw my thoughts like tomahawks
into this world which I disown
because the pillow that I dream on
is the threshold of a kingdom
is the threshold of a world where I'm with you
it's a dark & snowy secret
& it has to do with Heaven
& what looks like sleep is really hot pursuit
"I still get a hollow feeling on Labor Day when the summer ends // and I remember how I would always refer to her boyfriends / as what’s-his-face, which was wrong of me and I’d like / to apologize to those guys right now, wherever they are: // No one deserves to be called what’s-his-face."
I was 19, and dead from the neck up
She was a Christian rock ingenue
Sentimental as a cat's grave
Her fucking body broke my eyes
And she said, "I'm gonna love the hell out of you"