i missed franz ferdinand twice this week (though they say third time's a charm)

i lied to you twice tonight-

the first time was after lunch
at the park
it was pouring and i watched the
rain drip from your lips
and off your hair and blur my eyes
you said something distant
how i should write a poem about alan
and my car and the rain, because
there was alan, in my car, in the rain
and i said i don't write poetry (anymore)
you ignored it because you knew
it wasn't true

though i haven't been able to vomit
anything onto paper in months

not anything halfdecent anyway.

shit. i am so angry because it's late
because i was waiting for Conan
(I’ve been waiting for this one all week)
and my cable blew and on top of that
all i've wanted to do was write
something about that moment
(you know, the one we let slip
through our finger tips?)
although now even the memory
has grown faded and distorted

the second (lie) was when I allowed
my body to tell you I didn’t want
you to kiss me

(the truth is, I wish you would do
it already 'cause I've been wondering
what it will be like; so I can)

stop lying since the truth is
fire-engine red across my forehead
anyway.

06/15/2004

Author's Note: blah. i don't know what i will do with myself if i cannot write something even remotely decent soon.

Posted on 06/16/2004
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