Saturday, December 24, 2011

I Might Vodka Something

A rip in the seam and everything is coming together so nicely. The boys in the washroom are talking about the girls at the bar and they’ve become so feisty. Sipping on drinks the colour of mermaids, looking at the high heels on all of these getaways. Driving really fast, well that is what it feels like, not in a car, but taking something with a little more fuel, rocket launching missile seeking sabotage. Lighting up seven cigarettes, want to feel the rush right to my head, the bone marrow inside of me is vibrating at the velocity of all of the sex appeal that is now bombarding me. Choking on sequins, your are a beautiful mess. Snorting up sequins so I can be beautiful like the rest. I think I might vodka something because this coffee is weighing me down, somebody pass me a pen and a notebook and a little more sound. Cant hear my thoughts, for they have left the building, trying to find my thoughts now but they have up and left the building, where is this building, disco fleeing bar, where my thoughts all go and party and harbor sabotage. Paint my lips with something wicked and target your eyes to all that is heaven, for this is a little darker then actuality and the result twister in this haven has got me loosing batteries. Saunter into my bedroom and well make a fort or something, stay awake until we can’t shut up and sleep until we have something to say. Lightening bolts and there is no storm. Purple haze, completely dazed, wind blown and there is not even a stitch of soul in the atmosphere. Weathered down and weathering out, loosing my mind, gaining the touch. Haunted happiness within the rip in the seam, nothing to gain but a rip in the seam.

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