how now

ribbons and buttercups and being too fucking naive to function sometimes

back in the gaps between tiles i tie my shoelaces upside down and drink water out of flower vases and dream with my fingers tied up in your hair. sometimes life makes no sense and i didnt sleep for weeks. instead i tightrope walked up and down your spine with spiderweb legs and you breathed in semitones to the thrum of my pulse. uhuh. i did. and you did. we sat on roof tops way too late painted in full moons and dead bits of indian paintbrush. and you kept saying thankyou as we leaned against the chimney, told me i couldnt ever disappear. i make a very good ghost though. did you know that?

 florence and the machine is playing and i feel like the brainchild of industrialization and conformity and that contagious materialism thats characterized by that insatiable WANT (its like empty swimming pools) that we fill with THINGS...

second hand charm bracelets, worry beads, old bibles all dusty and bitten by saints, fake hundred dollar bills. (i hope when i die i'm mummified in counterfeit money,) flower print house dresses, ceramic mugs, kaleidoscopes

the things we think we need

i am a cherry tree spun with fireflies and there is ivy crawling up my roots and shredding my bark and my voice isnt anywhere

in particular

and i cant quite put my finger on things sometimes except when you're sad and your voice sounds like very very quiet sirens. 

its nice when you go to buy magazines and karen o is looking back at you and then not so nice when you realize you're not the minority anymore and a woman in spandex pants is brandishing a nail filled two by four inches away from your

face

and sometimes we usually keep our promises

and chlorine in my skin and the thrum of concerts and second hand paisley and moonbeams and smoke spiraling into my eyes i cough like my lungs are hopefully disposable. her house is maybe burning down. did i tell you that?

i dreamed of a house with big windows that are always full of sunlight and gables that were charred black and waterfalls and it exists. i know this house exists. i am insatiably obsessed with finding it and making it mine so i can sleep next to you forever and it can always be summer and texas so maybe youll be able to breathe a little better

textbooks make my mind run in uncatchable circles 

i will tattoo sparrows and bumblebees and i love yous across my skin so i dont forget my definitions