we may lay our head down but we are not

asleep


on the ride home
it's drunk kids in t-shirts
it's ladies finding work
and finally it's deserted streets
quiet and assuring

and sometimes i think that's how we do
tonight i was a book-face/ i was feather-fall
and some dude wondered couldn't you be more;
what're you here for/ why'd you come
and i couldn't only say i'm a member of the international
troublemakers; it's a party, n'est-ce pas

i didn't show up to fuck/ i showed up
to fuck shit up

i'm not looking for waterfalls, geysers, or drip drip drip
spicket dicks; dude the only cascade i want is made of hair or
maybe ribbons

so if yrr gonna do this right- talk to me
in vowels; i'll reply in consonance

and if rendering doesn't kill you first, wait for lesbian bed death trials

"2009-- don't fight it."