smokey eyes, are you feeling good? for now, you’re here with me. seems like we’ve waited long enough for someone else to make us feel complete. it’s not a bitter flavor and it’s not a sweeter drink. i’m scared to ask you if you would do the same for me. smokey eyes— that’s your name isn’t it? at least that’s what i call you. when i call you do you shake the way i shake when i call to say i’m through? “no, i shake the way you do at shows so people know you’re cool.. violently but still controlled enough to screw.” so help me make amends with all my friends. most other people are just dead ends. there’s nothing worse than making friends. sticky thighs, are you wild now or just a memory? some people want to be your friend, some people just want to be free, and the worst thing about me is that i’m somewhere in between; i might miss you but i’m still trying to get clean. you’ve had enough to drink, you know you’re drowning in the flavor of cough syrup and vicodin. you’ve got the bitter flavor down so dab the sweeter drink on a napkin, then hold it up to your mouth so you can sleep. quiet lies that you’re telling to those black and screaming skies.. i hope you’re walking around campus contemplating your own smallish size. this is not what all my idols told me college would be like. i hope someday you learn to take your own advice.