cloud-poisoning & current events.

clouds come and go

like melodies

from guitars

held by boys that only know

how to move from town to town

and awkwardly offer there arms

for an evening,

a moment,

a chance at something bigger.

better.

shinier.

the big apple has a hook in it so don't be fooled.

my cheek has already been pierced.

that's why i stopped singing.

dancing.

clapping for the boys with their easy songs.

easy words.

easy eyes that make it hard to look away.

but it was dark in that smoky bar when i met you,

& you never would have asked me to stay.