quasi_sean

he hopes you understand. it's 6 o' clock in the morning where he's calling your name out to the sun that still hides behind the downtown buildings.

open his eyes (slow) peel back the smiles and metaphors that are leaving these burns on his arms as he holds a shaky hand over the paper--trying to write the letter--this poem to her who once loved him who looked at him like no one ever had and probably never would again. there was so much to say these times were over and he knew she would cry over the notes that she made in her head these memories rushed over him and he started to cry. no more girlfriends like her. no more wishes.

Doctor--you have no idea. my minds still spins--weaving hallucinations of marriage and happy life by your side when you held my hand and gave me band-aids to cover the scars when you kissed my forehead and sent me off to the asylum...

my tears are staining this love-note. mr. maudlin.

i'll see you in the next cocaine dream.