(Source: rileyjanelle, via errthng)

yuck

yuck

you’re the coffee stain
on the shirt it took one year
and two states to clean

slept up against all
the pillows which were no match
for a warm body

what would i want? sky

i sing the lyrics
as we approach the ocean
which is resting beneath
the largest expanse of sky i’ve seen
in i don’t know how long
and i’m wondering how anyone
can be stressed in LA
when there’s this

i’m having a hard time
sorting through all
the details of last night
a dim blur of people and places
but i remember our midnight kiss
and the sayings you invented
before falling asleep next to me
a smile still on your lips 

we’re sitting on the beach now
and the salty ocean air
is filling my eager lungs
and i’m thinking and i know
it’s gonna be a good year 

love letter to the subway singer

you can’t sing
really your voice sounds
like something is dying
within it
you stood right in front of me
and abused your vocal chords
with such conviction
i could hear you
over the loudest music
my phone contains
all the noise
created such a nasty
headache
that i actually thought
i might vomit

and when you finally
felt it was time to stop
and you held that cup
in front of my face
with naive expectation
in your eyes

i gave you all the cash i had
and i’m glad i did
because that’s what
the fucking christmas spirit is all about

she’s been filling out paperwork

for twenty minutes
she was adopted so she can’t answer
the questions about family history
she’s wearing the beanie her andrew
gave her months ago
it has DEATH in gangster script
in white across the front
we laughed about it in the car
because we’re both too morbid
to take any of this too seriously
they won’t let me drink in this room
which sucks because I just bought a midtown-priced tea
while she smoked one last cigarette
before we both signed ourselves into this building
the guard lectured us
because we claimed it was 7:55
and it was actually 8:00

so now I’m fucking thirsty
and still tasting garlic

it’s surprisingly busy
we were the only white girls
until the other one who just walked in
she’s our age and looks like someone
we would know
her hair is bleached blonde
frizzy from the rain
she’s in eighteen layers of black
and last nights eyeliner
she keeps looking at us
i’m smiling back
somehow protective over her
because she’s alone
and i think i would be too
but she seems sad about that
and i think i would be too

all i know is
i signed the witness line
on the paperwork
lilly’s still working on

and that felt important

i can’t get the taste of garlic out of my mouth

a bunch of us shared the plate of fries
i must have had five in total
but they were large fries
in retrospect
and raw garlic is always the worst
i think it’s seeping out of my pores now
i’m sick to my stomach
of course it’s raining like this today
i think my entire ceiling might just fall in
if it doesn’t stop soon
i won’t be here though
to see it come crashing down
i’ll be with lilly at a clinic in midtown
because we made it through the apocalypse
but the world is still ending
in a very specific kind of way
i still have last nights conversation
stuck in my head
andrew and i wishing i was a boy so we could date
how good we’d be together
if only i was his type
biologically speaking that is
and me thinking how strangely tragic
that this wasn’t the first drunk conversation
of this kind
i’ve had this week

the tears don’t mean anything

i don’t know where they come from
but they keep showing up
after too many drinks
and yesterday’s impromptu bourbon tasting
must have put me over the edge
but we were having so much fun
and neither of us are good at knowing
when it’s time to stop

i think there’s an imaginary box
that exists somewhere between us
where we keep all those drunken memories
that are best kept stored away

let’s always put the crying in that box, okay?

because i don’t know when i became a person who cries
it’s a fairly new thing
i’ve tried blaming it on birth control
but i think my emotions just lie so close
to the surface now and sometimes
they entirely overwhelm me
and that turns into crying

those tears mean something to me
but not the drunk ones
those tears don’t mean anything

other than a smear of mascara
on a napkin you’ll take a picture of
and hashtag it as art 

i used to care about new year’s eve

i thought it was symbolic
that one year you ditched me
i drank a bottle of champagne alone in my bathtub
crying desperately
feeling bad for myself
on the phone the next day
i told you it was over
i think you expected it
but i wanted you to know that I loved you
that caught you off guard
but you said you loved me too

the next year you were dating cassie
that butch chick from montana
i think you kissed her at midnight
and then found your way to me
after we drove her home
we went to your place and fucked
it was quiet, drunk, rehearsed
i needed the validation
i think you knew that
you came inside me and i felt empty
i think you knew that too

i drank a bottle of champagne alone in my bathtub
again last new year’s eve
but I didn’t cry for you

and that felt like progress

i caught you

on your walk of shame this morning
i thought of saying

it was a slap in the face
how quickly i was replaced
are you thinking of me
when you fuck her

then i remembered those are alanis morissette lyrics
and complimented your shoes instead