you want to escape with me
i’ll go anywhere with you
but back to reality
tired of fragmented presences
exist or go the fuck away"
— (via ourtwobodiesintoonepinkcasket)
shakespeareinthesnark said: super pretentious (but also really interesting) note: the word accent is formally only correct when talking about the way someone speaks a language other than their first (francophones have a french accent speaking english, anglophones have an english accent speaking chinese, etc.) A dialect is the specific variation on the language between native speakers. Of course this doesn't matter a ton in most settings, but it's super helpful when discussing linguistics.
THANKS! THIS IS COOL!
There’s something about the doormat you’re on.
There’s something about me answering
when you knock that reminds me of someone.
You ask me how I am & I want to kiss you—
something stops me & we know
that it’s the distance.
Salt Lake City is not beautiful but with you
standing drunk & stoned in the street
then maybe it could be. I force a conversation
into our hands about nothing, nothing sounds
like me asking where to next? I ask where to next
but I don’t intend to follow you there.
I swallow the lamplight in my room
& think of someone else. I swallow love
but love never gets past my throat.
He was no one, but that’s not the point.
The point is that I decided to place my life
next to his, the point is that he moved away
& wouldn’t let me on the bus. I tried to chase
his love down & my dog heart broke.
I slammed fists into gravel. I bit a new hand.
It’s not the point that he is no one, the point
is at the end of the line. The end of the line
is where he left me, the end of the line
is where love dies in someone’s arms
& it’s all very dramatic with the violins
screaming & the ambulance screaming,
where someone says the wrong thing
in the wrong way at the wrong time
& then you’re drinking whiskey
on a Tuesday & thinking about
where that point points to. You don’t
follow the point. You wait for him
to come back to it, but he never does.
I don’t want to forget to live my life with joy.
I want to pull myself up so I can get down to
the bottom again, to tie myself to the bed
to prove I can stay in one place without him,
to keep raising my arms in the kitchen as if
my body was a Hallelujah at the end
of someone else’s sermon, to forget
the people I could have loved if they
just would have let me.
I ask you where you’ll plant your tree.
I forget to say
inside me, inside me.