clean it. clean the floor.
kings of leon and the bacon clubhouse double
the faded ginger around the corners of popped eyes
sticking lemon in hot water
waiting for the change and crash
pills crushed on ur settee
radioactive meals, stolen shampoo
quiet evening, planet party, sunset comedown
worth it too
swallowed, sniffed a way to brain death
the damage like broken glass around the bed
still though, there’s some oxygen in ur lungs
and a box of chicken wings next to ur new eyeshadow palette.
mike why’d you have to go n do this to me?
15 minutes into my life and i was staring my mother out
but she won.
and it’s not like it’s some kind of competition but
the capacity to make a man’s eyes water
as he holds his hooch from across the bar
is absolutely delicious.
mike i’m crying in the elevator
with a pizza crust sat like a sad smile
in the bottom of my stomach.
mike i told you
humans are the biggest oxymoron in existence
which makes us amazing
but such a pain in the arse.
i don’t like winning anymore
and so men who settle the score with me
cos my heart was decapitated from a head of kisses
that many fucks ago an ex gave me
and he told me, he told me,
you’re amazing, lymh
and he calls me baby and hands me cake like dummies
for i am sickly
and cannot quite manage hangovers as i could 3 weeks ago
i drink to remember what it felt like kissing jäger off his dirty t-shirt
and i drink to remember what a lovely curse i’ve been given
that sucking cocks just isn’t fun anymore
and that i hate the sound of my own voice in seminars
15 minutes into my life mike
my ex was holding my hair behind my neck
wet from the rain
marry me, you shit
what kind of a man drinks hooch
and what kind of a man proposes after a 2am argument as i vomit,
howling tears to the moon?
i dunno mike.
but i’m still crying in this elevator cos of you.
i think about you everyday
i think about you when the sun’s on my face
and my friends are laughing about something i said when i was drunk
and i think about you when mura masa’s on radio 1
i think about you when i’m head banging in sankeys
i think about you with my 3 am subway
i think about you when i’m crossing the road
look at my swollen body
it has loved you on sunday afternoons when the sun burns my forehead
and it has loved you on sunday afternoons when the rain soaks me to my veins
i think about you everyday
i think about the raise of you
and the pull, the pull of you
and the push the push of you
the strings on my date’s guitar
i tiptoe in his bathroom and see you stood behind me in the mirror
i feel your breath on my neck when i sleep
your air has never changed
all of you was a tornado
i am not the same,
and i think about you everyday.