pocket changeellie counts the tiles of my roof and i try to match my breath to her steps as she hums (she never sings), drags her feet and insists we sleep on the floor so i never have to fix the sheets.pocket change
and i love her.
i tell ellie about
every dream and every coin that i left to die in wishing wells and she tries to understand,
but she doesn't believe in what i believe and thinks it's the prettiest thing that i still dream.
bottle rocket dreams"it's a tough call, but if you can't make that crushedbottle rocket dreams
confessional crawl, then you won't be able to leave and you'll kneel alone on the fake plastic land, a
brokenhearted schoolyard crush where everyone's
happy but you're just shit. out of luck, and just not
worth it. your friends won't come for you anymore,
these punchdrunk muscle relaxant romances have all
sprung leaks and i don't carry the tools to fix someone
as damaged as you."
so from trading cards to pogo sticks, she sat skinny like a doll on a recycled plastic roof. over time she waxed
lonesome, and made
king midas"king midas"king midas
she speaks in bedtime stories as i weave the lies of quiet skies and fireflies; leaving bonfires behind for the former to find whispers of wave-worn trails hidden by black widow eyes. she tells tales of sailing great golden seas and all the spaniards who came looking for me.
i ran for miles and miles over roots, weeds, dirt, and trees with nothing to show but two scarred feet, grass-stained jeans, and black hole knees. i traveled too far to hear you call for me and i've become the king of every place i've been
'i am sending th
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