plagerism

When you’re eating sushi in the sun on the gleaming asphalt

w/somebody who loves you, there’s something there that tells you

everything’s OK.

Feel real. 

Don’t we all just want to?

I can see she is in love.

Some days the only important questions are, 

how will I get out of my pajamas?

if I put on fresh underwear, will I still feel like I need to shower?

the blinds are drawn shut, the bed, seduces me, like a womb.

I love it, 

she says. 

I can see it 

in the string of lights above the sheer fabric

in the music playing

in the way she's breathing in that blurry video clip

In the way that she has arranged photos

I can see she is in love.

The way I could see, 

when that girl gripped him on the waist. 

I called her “cockroach girl”

due to the way she’d make me feel;

but she had empty, blue eyes and boyish eyebrows,

and sat in ways that made her look like she didn’t care

but was deep in thought.

and somehow this always made me imagine

that she must be nice to fuck.

But I could see, the way she gripped him

that she cared about one thing at least,

It was his last day. She still had a few more years.

You can tell.

And I know.

I’ll never stop being obsessed

with your hands.

even so, my soul is thirsty

(I want to see his face when he talks of the passions of his soul and the first time he saw the ocean)