I didn't write one word yesterday.
still talk for still rivers.
it felt so goddamn good.
it felt so goddamn good.
we are kids fast approaching death day by day.
where did Brooklyn golden, soldier nothing heart?
roses are in washed-up sing-alongs.
sometimes you just gotta turn the morning off.
then turn it right back on.
think about pencils and paper and breakfast.
the middle tastes like metal.
let's race to the end and back.