some kind of solitude is measured out in you
you think you know it but you haven't got a clue
One of these warm summer nights I'm going to lay on my back in a field of fireflies and chase the fox in the milky way. Let the crickets and the tree tops weave a choral accouchement for my soul. Whispers, lullabies, constellations, ionizing grains of mercurian shore, kissing the sun's reflection in a martian mirror, a moon that never rises. And with heaviness I will watch the sun leech night's dye topaz. Diamond thief.
I never did have a backstroke that I was proud of, but on the silky 'A' ring of Saturn I glide with pluterperfect grace. It is from there that I will watch our resident Dyeus slip quietly into an undersea tomb. The age of somnolence, a golden era of cryptkeepers and interstellar meridian surfers. Metempsychotics.
I am an only child. I am a fool. I drink too much. I need to be touched. I am both excited and terrified to go back to school. I appreciate my friends more than they know.
you think you know it but you haven't got a clue
One of these warm summer nights I'm going to lay on my back in a field of fireflies and chase the fox in the milky way. Let the crickets and the tree tops weave a choral accouchement for my soul. Whispers, lullabies, constellations, ionizing grains of mercurian shore, kissing the sun's reflection in a martian mirror, a moon that never rises. And with heaviness I will watch the sun leech night's dye topaz. Diamond thief.
I never did have a backstroke that I was proud of, but on the silky 'A' ring of Saturn I glide with pluterperfect grace. It is from there that I will watch our resident Dyeus slip quietly into an undersea tomb. The age of somnolence, a golden era of cryptkeepers and interstellar meridian surfers. Metempsychotics.
I am an only child. I am a fool. I drink too much. I need to be touched. I am both excited and terrified to go back to school. I appreciate my friends more than they know.
VIEW 19 of 19 COMMENTS
jeff_fries:
I would have guessed TS Eliot, but I don't read a lot of poetry or pay attention to lyrics very well.
nixon:
Next weekend (as in, not tommorrow). Suicide Saturday. Be there.