i look like ryan ross
--
give me envy.
flash.
give me malice.
flash.
give me your attention.
in periods of rapid personal change, we pass through life as though we are spellcast. we speak in sentences that end before finishing.
we sleep heavily because we need to ask so many questions as we dream alone.
you come swimming into view.
you may be a great gambler but you can’t win. you roll six when you need seven. you're good, but nowhere near great.
the sun’s gone down in my eyes. i’ve never been so alone, and i’ve never been so alive.
magazine covers are ruining their faces. i draw all over them. i knowiknowiknow i can’t keep it all together.
i’d like to believe my horoscope, but it’s laughing. living my life a thousand times faster than normal. i’m missing home. or am i missing you? or am i missing me?
i can slow down. i sleep in a coffin seven days a week. i don’t dream. i don’t don’t don't.
back in vampire sleep. that makes it worse. i’m on a train but there’s no one at the helm.
he’s got his jaws locked down in a smile. but nothing is alright.
all right?
i don’t think highly of myself, but when you hear you’re a god, it gives you quite an image to live up to.
and i tell them i’m not. maybe i never will.
and the god of wine is crouched down in my room.
i want to believe in the faith that grows, but i’m having a pretty hard time.
the alcohol permeates. soon, the cells give way, and cancel out the day.
but somehow, i still try to believe that.
i’m the one for you, because i know all things you’d like to do.
i’m the fear in your eyes. i’m the fire in your flies.
i’m the sound that’s buzzing around your head.
every creative writer worth our consideration is a victim of man given over to an obsession.
and you are guiltless and free. and i’m hanging on your words, like i always used to do. the words they use so lightly, they only feel for you. i only know because i carry you around in the background.