a good, good story (12/30/20)
″take your hands off your neck and hold on to the ghost of my body /
you know that good lives make bad stories, you can text me /
when punching mattresses gets old.” -- car seat headrest’s sober to death.
hey hey listen to me now / one day we’ll get out of this stupid town / one day we’ll be happy, we’ll know how to breathe, but for now / i keep my car with you, your lungs with me and i / am so, so sad, and / you? what about you? / that sounds about right. we’re two of a kind. / you can call me when you’re not busy / in alleyways picking fights and / i’ll stop smoking every other night but just today let’s / go home. let’s lick wounds with each other and / pretend we’re not sick. pretend we don’t live / wishing tomorrow was another bucket to kick. / but if you hold me and / say we’re not burning? / and i hold you and / say we’re more than damaged goods? / i think that’d be alright. / i think i could make it to the morning. / i think we wouldn’t have to be another / good, predictable story.