i keep my heart in my chest where it belongs; it's out of the way, for now.
so anyway, let me tell you; nothing lasts long in this place.
you knew thatyou knew that and you came here anyway. but honestly, what did you expect to find? it's only me here you know, miles and miles of me, and you can't take much more from me than myself. and even then, you'll have to pay me back for lost time when this is all over and done (cash only, please).
just do your job and nothing else. make sure we catch it all on tape. make sure we see it in black and white. turn on the teleprompter, turn on the television ―watch out for sharp right turns and don't wear those damn low-cut shirts during the day just to make me squirm.
give me your kisses in writing to prove that you were here before you're gonebut don't sign your name on my body because it's my bodyand please try not to leave a mess behind, because we both know i'm not the one who throws emotions and shit around.
take me to the special place across the way from you-know-where― we'll abandon ourselves, alive, alone, together, from the kisses and drugs and sunshine and graphic novels. we'll fuck up and make mistakes and tell stories and be sad and tired and clumsy and beautiful.
then in seventy-three minutes we'll leave without telling the sun our secrets, and you'll go one way and i'll go the other; into the window display village towards your home, down the yawning highway towards mine.
and don't you ever even think of calling me because my number is a novelty and nothing more, and i probably gave you a fake one anyway but then again i don't really remember. and don't look me in the eyes until next thursday, until you've worked up the guts to stop fucking around with that kid you call Yachia.
but i think it'll be okay. just stay where you are for now, waiting for it all to come full circle for the umpteenth time. just waiting for the paper clips and missed birthday parties and invisible ink and torture and wire sculptures and absolute bliss in grass too high to see over (and for you to cure me of my fear of insects-bugs-dirt-dust-daytime and show me proof that dandelions aren't weeds) and please, please, take me for a fool.
don't come over to my house and i won't come over to yours and don't ever mention my name to anyone but me and i'll sure as hell do the same for you. but on thursdays we'll stay after school and go to that place where we make our bodies into boxes.
and we'll waste all of the seventy-three minutes in the world away on our favorite cartoons from long before we were born, 'cause now . . . now, they're playing all the best shit on the tv in the sky, and it's all so wonderful that it's almost enough of a reason for us to stay where we arei mean, it seems to me that we've been here from the very beginning.