(stumble and lisp)

My brain is a train crashing through the frozen city streets leaving behind a hundred accidents. a hundred heart attacks. a hundred glaring marks of beauty to keep reminding me why it is i stay so fucking alive in this place after all these years unsure of just who the hell it is i was doing my damndest to be.

I have the tendency to forget, sometimes.

And when i do i end up crawling around in those unkept spaces where i keep all those dark moments i don't, for a precious fucking moment, feel like mentioning because tonight my hair is clean. my heart is healthy and my blood isn't boiling with the seventh wonder of my new world here in sunny queens.

I'm also, peculiarly, sober.

There's a correlation to be made there, i'm fucking sure but right now i don't give a damn about connecting the commonplace excess of vice with the unwravelling of my headspace.

I want to feel good. i want to smoke well listening to the rocket boys who i've known as long as any of new york's drunken alleys.

And when i wake up, i want to feel the same.