hey lily. i wish you'd come downtown with me for penny candy.
i can't keep up with the way that you play - -

where do you think you're going?
i see you marching to the lake

lately everyone's been calling me a cockroach sailor
(you told me – four-letter words
kill dandelions -)

but you see i am
implanted in an opera of anorexics
molasses saliva in the canteen
(all the roses are burning)
lighting, up, the sky, smoke in the, sky
all the crows up there come crashing down
and i don't know how i fit into this picture
as i am so quiet lately.

where do you think you're going?
i see you marching to the lake
you're blue all over and bruised

semblance melancholy makes me feel
as though i am triteness walking
consider enduring and conceive visions
but you see,
i own this gun
and i named her lily.
but you know what – i'm unhinged and i just think
you don't even deserve to be a proper noun.
(i suppose i don't mean that)

you just don't know anything or see anything and i am here. you keep me waiting.

where do you think you're going?
i see you marching to the lake
you're blue all over and bruised
you're naked and i think, you must be cold

perfume in my ears
they said don't you love that sound?
but it stings and i think it's gone to my brain
i can't find my voice.
(and the sentiment lingers)
and we swore we'd walk to paris. you keep me waiting.

where do you think you're going?
i see you marching to the lake
you're blue all over and bruised
you're naked and i think, you must be cold
dragging your muddy shoes behind you
your eyes are closed and i think, you must be lonely down there

(and all the roses are burning)

god lily, when are we gonna get out of this town?


to read this poem in it's real format: (slash)