Hey, I Want to Die
May 2015
pretty boy, kissing me,
lemonade and a snow white dream
i don’t smell her on his collar
but i can see the blood
a hazy, late drive home
breaking silence, treading mud
i climb my way straight up you
up, up to the top
at the tallest point,
i can hear the lightning shock
if i could cut you open
can you tell me what i’d see?
if it’s not a wishbone,
it isn’t you, it isn’t me