Pack a hit to this...

modraymi

Hey blog world

I’m a boy and you’re a girl

I want to make that pocket novel magic.

I want to make it with you and you and you and you.

I want a ticket for a midnight train that’s reflected in long purple lakes.

I want the hit with no bruise and the needle prick with no bleeding.

(Won’t you…

Take me to a restaurant that has glass tables so I can watch myself while I’m eating?)

I want the microphone reverb, the anthem’s chords crashing all around. I want to find a way to pull us out of this 16 bit PC color world. My wrists are cramping up, my eyes are swollen and red and the monitor buzz is piercing my brain.

I want to see you—out there in Brooklyn and Boston, Toronto and Kansas. I want to see you once and I want to see you often. Cali and Hawaii, Norway and strangeways and Detroit and school halls and Montreal and Grosse Point and the lil ol’ Jersey shore.

I want it all and then I want more.

I want all your missed opportunities. I want the balled-up Kleenex, the smelly hair, lines of prickly pimples, yellow half moons on the underarms….overripe fruit of the loom…I want your drugged out prayers for a god you don’t know or understand, the god behind the blue and white Kmart glow.

The one who knows how to make your heart beat stop.

The one who pulls the switch for the pressure drop.