The Lights in this Joint Remind Me of You

stuffing the key hole with all of your promises and picking the lock for air. the light in here reminds me of you and the way your staggered teeth catch your lip with you smile. you have this alligator dance that you swear is more like a flamingo and I'm ready to take you to the zoo to prove you other wise. it's Wednesday and your falling in love like a Saturdays night. the light in this joint, reminds me of you. dress me up and dress you down, silent cues that make us know just what to do. lipstick traces parts of your body, and what is the speed limit on those hands. lust is creeping into every parts of this room, the curtains are weigh down with a lusty flirt and the glasses are all rimmed with just the same. an action, and everyone is acting. pull it down, push it up, tighten that. shoulder back, lips part. ready for your famous walk. strutting what you think you've got in a room that doesn't care if you do or not, their taking whats left each and every one of them. taking turns, sharing words, experiences being passed along the room, a spin the bottle motion that is matching the motion in your head. thought sickness, you haven't felt this before, your considering the coincidence of this well played game, this staged out play, your fervency stain.

We Just Can't Afford Your Cavities

stepping on the fragments because i want a puzzle. quick fix for a weak heart and i dont need the easygoingness of your marmalade. an affair im not invited too that i will not get involved with. a reminder of where i am at all times because your mind is quickly drawn to the absorbency of my personality and i was hoping to ring you out like a bad habit moons ago, but the night keeps calling me back like a past lover and i just cant say no to the glitter of lust's embrace. pieces of glass coating the cupcakes we keep eyeing and there is a bear trap in the pool for all the sophisticated ladies about to claw at each other and the prize, is nothing but veggie tales. the summer will spoil your goods and the waves will come crashing down on your makeup. paint by numbers your little heart breaks and fill the room with your insecurities, can we get some security here, call security. you stand so tall glamor girl with your head to the sky, i would think you knew yourself better, but caught you in the eye with your seven inch heel, feeling sorry for yourself, causing murders with your words. verbal abomination, you think your so smooth with your metaphors and degrading vocabularies, throwing our slang from all the sitcoms you've watched while thinking thoughts of them and that and where and who and when and wanting, your wanting everything and ready to give nothing, experience nothing, know nothing. you know nothing in your text books of everything that you wrote with a crayon and a sharpie because the rumours you've started are permanent and your stares are staining napkins from every fast food joint in town because you somehow end up in these parking lots, back seat playground and everybody knows, but somehow they pity you and turn that pity into fear and tumble around the idea of making a mess of you but they're holding back they're going to turn up and sniper you and you won't know what to do. it'll be later in life, when you think you've righted all your wrongs and your wrongs will slowly seep into your mediocre taco. sugar we've switched you to sweet`n low because we just can't afford your cavities anymore.

The Inappropriateness of this Politeness

Dreams engulfing other times of my day. The inappropriateness of this politeness is causing me pain. Eyelids trying to slap away moments while ghostly arms push from your soul and cling to them for dear life. Caring too much. Not caring enough. Library card, checking you out like a systematic tragedy, you are a causality, and I cant help but want more of you. Say my name with Coca-Cola freshness, brand me like a product, advertise and praise me. Limited edition? Don’t you dare share or save me. Crave me, like a seductive point of view, let me seduce you. Seduce me while seducing you. I want more. Throw away the TV, put it on the window sill, for the world to see. Allow the sun to penetrate us like the glass of a snow globe, twisting the sparkles that lay at my feet, I am feeling so heavy, but no where close to defeat. Charging a fee, and getting a free pass, waiting for other things to add up, equal and subtract. A night on the town, cashing in on the clouds that are dancing across our eyelashes, forcing ideas into minds, people into sheets, and drinks down throats. Ballerina figures twisting in cages in places you've never been before, an affair films your tongue, tastes like fear, but excites you. Waiting for strangers to say hello, waiting to fall in love with people you don't know.

Junk Yard Conscience

Truthfully so. You know much less than what I've told you. Actually, I'm penetrating your mind on an untimely schedule but I'm having a hard time penciling in my soul. It's much more spontaneous than you'd choose to acknowledge but mark my words ill pencil you in with much more than a No.2. A passion you can't help but hear over the telephone. A smile so loud we've got to turn the volume down. Memories ty-dying the present urging your body to move. An oasis casting itself along your pride, and your forcing yourself to transcribe all that is making you inflatable. Junk yard conscience and a addicts mentality, straight tooth nose dive into a glass of stars, picked from the heavens and sold for parts. Glow in the dark fears and I'm hoping I wouldn't have to unlock that door for you in years.

All The Same Chromosomes, Give or Take

An exchange of hellos. One bubbly like champagne, empty like the clouds but glowing. Another hello. A different style a different presentation. All the same chromosomes give or take a couple extra things here and there. A hunger for love and another with a love of lust, friendship. An interesting transition from nobody to somebody, a new chapter. A different kind of introduction. Words. For a while it's all words and paper based actions. It's all fun and all words but it all means something. The words slowly give way to actual actions, and the capabilities of these words; scare, excite, and entice you. A wind of hips from left to right, lip biting.. yours and mine. Rushing passion catching us in our dancing shoes. Eye contact, contacting much more than anything we've heard of. Bubbly champagne, suddenly heated. The intensity is real, no reason and not fleeting. Actions now playing a bigger role, words meaning exactly the way they are spoken. Crossing the line and double dipping, something in your mind has got you spinning, tripping on your conscience you sway left to right, little do you know I've already taken flight.
Caught up in the words you've spoken and the actions you've acted out. Little did I know your just confused as the rest, not knowing anyone or what they're all about. Playing Chicken with a empty heart and what you felt would be indifferent. Living in the past and I never went back. Say hello to yesterday for me because tomorrow is looking good and even if the games are played, I'm a neutral offset to your charades. No longer participating in your boost, I wish you all the best.

I'm Evaporating

I'm going to be benched. I can feel it in the way your swaying. I'm going to be benched and there is nothing I can do about it. I can be typical; start to sweat it now. We could begin the argument, the one I know I'll lose but you'll know this already and you'll know the way I am so I won't stop and I'll put up a good fight. The gloves are on, the gloves are off but it doesn't matter because I'm going to put up a monster of a fight because I care or because I don’t want to be eliminated from your slate but I will be. Over time you I will be over killed and we will fight, but I will be benched. The transformation for you will be easy I think, not that I'm deeming you as insensitive or something, however it'll fit perfectly. Knock me down a couple of pegs and not replace me, because I cant give you that much credit and I cant begin to compare myself to that because I will be benched not erased, but close enough. I am evaporating. I'm going to be nothing but a watermark on the back of your relationship. I'm being selfish, I can feel it in fingernails that I am trying to grasp something that I cant. I should be selfless, try and let you go, become something new, a different part of me should move on, and forever you should remain a memory, a stranger, a passerby on a rainy day and ill take more notice to your umbrella than your face because I wont want to rehatch things, I don’t want to be dragged back to the bench because that’s where I will have always been since that moment of realization, a moment you decided. A decision made. And I should accept it. Why am I trying to give the ring around for myself, to better, myself, no. It will still hurt, it won't matter I'll be benched. Ill be pissed and sad and angry and Ill hate you. Secretly Ill still adore you, creep your life, catch glimpses of it here and there so I can stay under the radar. I;; have this waterfall of emotions and every cash along the rocks will result in a brand new approach. Crash - Anger. Crash - Sad. Crash - Content. I'll forget to forget you, and remember to forget you when I've already realized I'm remembering you again. I'm being forgotten, nothing but a picture at the bottom of your box of memories. I'm evaporating, and without these words it wouldn’t be a problem, but soon you won't even notice.

Horizon Robbery

Icy irises and liquid lips on faces of people in the sun and delicious ideas flowing from the corner of your mind to the sky. The horizon begins to clothe the table for a fancy party and invitations pressed against tongues time and time ago. Arriving in your best decor dressed for the dance floor and for bed. Who's venue, who's room - minor details that won't phase you tonight. Twinkling stars act like Christmas lights and its not that time of year, thank the young heavens for that for the breeze of Jupiter are kissing our exposed skin, exposed dreams, and exposed infatuation tonight. Gardens of kisses and in the night of star dust we will blossom with mesmerizing integrity. A summery feeling catching glimpses of ability and the ability of your pride now rests assured in the corners of blind eyes. Robbing you of your contents, contents you didn't realize i could see, things you've put away. and the brand new day is calling me to the inside of secrets and a new perspective is enclosed in this piece of happiness. an effecting affection spinning the wheels and the direction has changed, falling in love with the voice on your robbery, straight shooting. pillows left, cold side to the sky and were going out - no sleeping, masked to the nines and the summer is going to break you free and there will be a time and place for everything other than that. a house of glass and i can see you, seeing me, seeing each other. a perplexed complexity on the moon and hello summer sun good bye spring tears, robbing you for much more than you will realize.

Tying The Noose On My Beliefs

I'm not in it. Its like a layer of bricks on my skull, my shoulders, the pressure is pressing me down down down. And it's so very unattractive. The way I'm biting my lip to the notion of something I feel so strongly about, but why. Stop and look in the mirror, out of sight/out of mind and perhaps that’s exactly what I shall do. One of these days I just wont care and then what, a force field of pent up ammunition that I am no longer responsible for because the target is direct but I cant seem to gain any self control. A walking disaster, what is my problem. Your problems are none of my business, and I am condoning such behavior. It's sickening how much I disagree and try to hold onto the slice of dream-like trance to make everything better. I was once put under the magnified glass, probed as if these actions were ones I was making and I wasn’t making them. Your making them. They are your actions and I will step aside. Tying the noose on my beliefs. Applauding something I don’t feel deserves the applaud. Blocking out what's happening all around with substances; music and liquid, I'm swimming in the beats, sipping on the beats and I am getting wasted to cover up things I don’t want to face because facing them with liquid music in my eyes makes it easier to pass the time and the time is now, help me applaud to this car crash. Don’t read into the words or take them as poetic analogies, for they are simple feelings metamorphosed into a more verbal approach. Take note of this. Look at it. Read it and don't fly off your rocket. I do not doubt the action or the feeling or the moment you are experiencing I do not doubt it at all. I am not enraged. I am not jealous. I am no longer going to worry. I am going to shelve my beliefs, tie the noose tight and throw the feelings somewhere else. I am no longer going to fight it with compassion or desire, I am no longer going to try and figure it out in a pretty way to paint pictures that will take away the empty feeling. I am going to walk away. Let the flame flicker in my shadow. I am going to drink away the pain with intoxicating music like an alcoholic to the reality of what I've done. I am shelved.

An Affair For Champions

Let me tell you about this thing. This passionate, fleeting, ultra violet love affair that has got me hooked. I don't use the word love loosely when diving into the depths of this affair because I am in love with it, the affair that is.. I use the word fleeting for an entirely effective purpose, because like the wind, this love affair is fleeting. This way and that way, but never reprimanded. Even while this affair is in action, fleeting to the next moment, minute, hour, or day it is present. Like a raindrop that has stained your skin, a likely comparison for anything so supple as this. The amount of passion this affair is containing in those moments, minutes, hours, or days is the root of all that is passionate. Passion would be based on this sort of thing. Ultra violet dresses the affair in a flowing flavour, a colour you could taste, recognizable with just the tips of your fingertips. Not rose coloured or a dream even tho those moments, minutes, hours, and days feel dream like and all your thoughts are replaced with dreams and marbles for eyes and everything almost brand new, but still brand new. A new corner, a fork in the road and things are happening. An affair for champions. A winning of fashionable characters. Let me tell you about this thing. This passionate, fleeting, ultra violet love affair that has got me thirsting for more. Like a vampire in the sun, I want to sparkle - but don’t get confused, this is no movie and there may come a time when decisions needs to be made or regrets start to surface, but for now and until those moments, minutes, hours, or days are backed into a corner and squeezed of a choice. I choose this passionate, fleeting, ultra violet love affair. I have invested a part of me into it and soon will bottle and sell it for cash money, because we all need one of these. Trust me, you need a passionate, fleeting, ultra violet love affair. A second where your name sounds like flowers in their mouth, and they are the most spectacular of flowers around.

Cleavage, Like a Landing Strip For Idle Affairs

Raise a cheek bone to this joyous occasion of drunken love and sober lust. Eyes glistening with a well lit spark, a flame fueled by attention, a longing of eye contact, silently undressing me from across the room. The smacking of heels across this hard wood floor is hardening other things, like candies in pockets. Cleavage, like a landing strip for idle affairs, affairs of even the most clothed embarking on naked adventures. Shiny teeth, and it's only eleven o'clock, nails just as shiny but soon will chip while you claw anticipation. Surprisingly ripped off by childish elements, turning liquid into pretty idealistic moments shared behind closed doors; be it closets, bathrooms, doors, and stairwells. The closure of one thing and the opening of another - mind blown wide open. Pretty truffles, the perfect colour of under garments on an ivory skin. Lips marking up the most expensive of collars and tongues playing with the idea of sultry secrets that will be picked up in hear say. A Cadillac of fevers with their high beams on, flashing for photographs that won't be framed, underwear drawer material and a years worth of blame. Hand cuffed to ambition, on the coat tails of powerful people, with an enraged tipsy feeling that has casted stars across your eyelids, and we aren't talking makeup tonight, we ain't talking makeup tonight.

Dancing On A Flame

I've developed this condition. It might be like a love affair, or a blossoming infatuation. However, all the symptoms are there, all the feelings of nostalgic passion keeping me up at night, an insomniacs twisted occupation. It's something like wet nail polish, after you've done two perfect coats, you have your hands tilted to the sky and your waiting for them to dry, you touch the tip of a finger lightly to your lips and like a deadly kiss you've marked yourself with a fantastic colour of cupcake furry and you laugh, amused at the action but kind of torn between the spot on your lip and the lip print on your finger. You contemplate, soon forget about it, later remember it, but ideally you want to befriend your nail, take care of it's weak spot. I have developed this condition that I wouldn't dare label as love probably lust, definitely lust. But a different form of lust, it's a strange combination of too much feeling and not enough feeling but at certain moments in time I'm teeter tottering on this ramsack of either one or the other. Suddenly I'll want to pounce and then suddenly I want to talk. It's a mix matched emotion of fear and excitement, losing it all and gaining everything or gaining everything and losing it all. A spork in the road, and the round of the spoon has consumed me and the prongs of the fork are begging me to act. Make a move. Stand still. Make a move, make a move. I'm dancing on a flame we have both lit, a flame that is taunting you and I and I'm rolling around the idea like bubbles in a bath. I've developed this condition.

Dancing to The Cure Like You Need a Dose of Medicine

don't take it lightly when you hear i love you, the rust on the outside isn't comparable to that of the diamonds that have encrusted the inside of something much more beautiful. follow the answers to questions, question the answers and rewrite your offer. sugar on the table and i would like to see your signature. statue of evidence in a fish net oasis, and high powered dreams can't fight this fire. touching down in different places - twirling around in fashionable manner. looking for a bitter solution of all this happiness. a league of upsetting dreams, leaving you up late at night. impressionable tools with the coincidence of locations, off the rack studio time and a serious sense of pride. a severe lip gloss with the intensity to grab stars out of the sky and place them safely in your pocket, a place that houses coins and trinkets, beers and drugs, ambition and desire, lust and love. dancing to the cure like you need a dose of medicine. lightening tricks and there is no magic in what i've got to tell you, all-star setup and i can't help writing. yearbook secrets in a swollen bind for years to come, glossy covered rumours with no place to go.

Lost Stars, Sinners Repent

breaking hearts that might already be broken. cigarettes unlit but we're already smoking. people jumping for the ceiling, trying to catch a flight. flicking on their sunglasses even though it's already night. waiting for the wake up call that just isn't coming, kids getting looped out - straight slumming. times flying by but we don't really care. laughing at each others jokes, dare i dare. falling over one another to get to the phone, no body's calling and no body's home. laugh tracks keeps playing, like a song on repeat - there is not much music but we dance to it's beat. crumpled up ambition we shoot for the net, land upon lost stars, sinners repent. fashionable poisons, we inject into our sleeves - off the cuff notions full of stamina and steez. concentrated slumber, but we won't sleep. kisses from mouths of absolute strangers, we don't mind the contact. contacting people on whole other levels, ladders reaching spaces that you didn't know were there. size able candies all wrapped and ready to go, cracking up words and throwing them out. wilding out in a conservative setting, no place mats or ties of embellishment. no tidy attitude to step on your high. a beautiful day. a sun. a sky. shopping carts full of envy and your shopping for composure, disciplining radiation, a fiery romance. let me. i want to. i want to romance you.

Answer With Tongue

jagged affairs, cascaded on the tables that were ones danced upon, with 6 inch heels and women who couldn't remember their names. shelves, 10 stories high, reaching the roofs were a chandelier hangs, the crystal houses pictures of images it has captured over time, images of nudity and sin, sin and nudity. the rugs still a little damp, the smell of perfume, hormones, and lust creep along the surface of this place. cigarettes still burning, ashes as long as eyelashes no one to flick them away, for the fear of the flick would draw attraction to the tension in a now deserted place of party and touch. showering in their clothes so they don't waste time, forget the boots, were taking our minds off boredom and escaping to the peek of sleep. a dream world were the pool is still filled with blow up people, wrappers and rappers. claimed acclamation we have yet to put credibility to. shopping for sequins, covering your manhood in disco appeal. covering the risk with glitter and sprinkling ambition and passion on parts of you, parts of you that you were unaware could be heightened in such ways. an addictive cringe now kisses your lips and you want nothing but touch, nothing but sound, nothing but the you and the me the now and the now the never has been forgotten and we're plunging into a curtain of capabilities, a section of questions we will now answer with only our tongues.

Don't Be Shy, Pretty

don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.don't be shy, pretty.

Boys With Names Sippin' Drinks Called The Same

they say if your going, to take your heart and guts. blonde haired disco divas slammin' back shots. twisted little faces, puckering their mouths and temptation sure does look good after a couple of shots. highway driving in the middle of suburbia. bandannas in our hair but we really aren't giving up. pretending we have secrets while we sip our cups. swimming in pools full of cocktails and we aren't losing much. game face on but the game is over.meeting different people, trying to get closer.watermelon chap stick has got things magnified,and boys can't help but collapse at this disguise.summer sun lightening our vision high heels got us on a whole other mission. dipping into pools that belong to our neighbors,high five idealistics got everything on fire. plastic money to buy their plastic dreams.the all American present is getting reamed. global ambition and we're "rolling in the deep"sugar cube mentality, and tongues looking suspicious glorified fashionistas, pretty boy kisses old school games with old school drinks - modernized playground of jacks and jacks. no ball, no plastic pieces. boys with names sippin' drinks called the same.

Verbal Ambition on a Suicide Mission

verbal ambition on a suicide mission. things got you stumbling, straight tripping and putting your wishes, those wishes, on hold, call waiting - next ticket? writers block because it won't slow down, minds on fire and the sirens are loud. chaotic appeal shaking up the world and there's nothing straight about this curl. curve your attitude, wake up it's all brand new, and you've got to want it- to need it and need it to want it. mixing up the rights and wrongs, everything sounds good when your listening to those songs, dance moves suddenly catch your body off guard but the words are forming and they're coming on strong. dressed up, dressed down, the words are naked to the sound, pushing statements of actuality, can you hear the war on tragedy, punctuating the causalities and they don't know why they do what they do but they do it with pride, eyes to the sky, no looking down for the ground is what will surround you in the long term and we don't have to time, for we've got the short term and in that term it's your turn so what are you waiting for, make a move before the snakes come and get you and down the ladder you'll go - before you get drawn into this life, and life is a game, not a game show no complimentary prize, or big flashing banner, when the game is over - hello sleepy manor.

Lathered In Confidence

patching up mouths with other mouths, searching your eyes for your heart and your hands for your tongue. countless details, remembering each and every one of them. tears fading into smiles and memories rewiring into present day and your suddenly captivated by this new found glory, this trophy of beauty is now resting on your navel and we shall kiss until the stars electrify this map of marks that we will connect like dots. firefly motions and sparks just the same, not fourth of July but you wouldn't know the difference because the fireworks you've got are those of a celebration and it's caressing this notion that things don't make sense, and you aren't about to pick them apart, picnic mode, it's up for grabs and you want it all, you want it bad. dancing to the melody of a song you can't remember, searching the radio for something stronger, cheers to no one in particular, you just really need a drink, heart dancing, you can feel it in your feel. and ruffling up the world won't make it concrete, idling on this coaster. in heels that bring you that much closer, accessory of nudity and you aren't about the cover up, sun kissing you in places you want to be touched, stumbling into a big heap of flaws, but when your this naked, what could go wrong, lathered up in confidence, dance moves taught as if you were in combat.

Touchdown On You

what am i doing. who am i am. i could ask myself a million times over but what am i trying to prove? all this feeling in me and who am i trying to love, trying to feel. im a mess. one helluva hot mess trying to act like i dont want those things, but i want them - secretly ill never have them because of the front i display. i want you but i dont. i dont but i do. i want you, who the fuck am i kidding. doesnt matter who i talk to, who i try to explain it to. im a disaster trying to touchdown on you.

Astrological Embellishments

a feeling. strong and bold like characters; highlighted. right clicked and italicized, for better emphasis. a feeling that's grown fingernails, and with outstretched arms finds the grit of it all. a feeling which pushes it's eyes open to see the beautiful of it's shape. a feeling, going off like an alarm clock in a chest, a chest guarded with bulletproof faces, a feeling masked by oneself, masked by the world, masked to the world. a feeling. like a windstorm, shaking the core, twisting it in the light, allowing the feeling to spill out over a day of feelingless unmentionables. a feeling kicked in the dirt, toyed with on the shelf. a feeling, picked up. tossed about. left on the curb. a feeling of colour. the warmth of a purple hue, in the contrast dance of a feverant blue all colliding with loving mouths into a sea of yellow so enlightening it forms green, on the verge of red. a colour me feeling, on the topography of astrological embellishments, contorting it's face as if a new angle will allow new feeling. a feeling. rushed. silenced. angered. adored and ignored. a feeling built towards the sun and kisses the clouds so the stars can penetrate it's feeling with a sugary dust of longing, a feeling capitalized, bottled and sold. a feeling smeared with something much more whole, much more solid. an itemized feeling. alphabetized, organized and unorganized. a feeling you can't quite taste but your fingers are all over it. mark your words you know it's there, even if you are stringing along the most perfect of imperfect cocktails to make it real. a feeling of making up. a feeling of taking down. a feeling you carry in a Tiffany's box, like a girl's best friend.