Beneath us, abyss, and we
just fall. Not
as dominoes- As old liquor.
Says hatchet woman: You will
regret. You will fall.
There is no solution the alcoholic cannot invent.
Thus we turn away in bathtubs, our
faces smashed into the water and we
hear nothing. We conjure (in our dark
psyche) the swirl of the world below.
And desperate to feel nothing,
poking eyes into
the universal body,
we fall.

My painted dusty face adores your
pretentious metaphors. “Pardon my perfectionist
tendencies.” That’s okay.
I want it to hurt a little bit.
In my sleep you made no noise so I cried out instead. From
the sky I noted, softly,
the sojourner stone. And when
Mr. Wanderer came
to knock me out of my body he told me,
“I would eat chlorine
if you asked me to.”

youwillneverhavethisbagel:

okay I’m going to stop being polite about it now

somebody send me a link for the mp3 of the compilation version of Bucket by Neutral Milk Hotel