nineteen!

it's ok, the view from here
i guess it's independent now.
there is a constant icing on the cake,
when will the sugar stop falling?
my fingernails will be filled with this earth
this earth
this earth
this island in an ocean of stars.
tiny, we barely notice ourselves.
grab a shovel,
dig me.
grab my dirt,
mold it into this earth.
i'll even let you orbit.
it's ok from here.
we'll end up perfect, i can tell.
we'll end up around strangers, just like the beginning.
windows from lofts
laundry dirty
drenched in an automatic beat, encapable to the human ear.
you are beyond it all,
all the stars and voices in their heads,
and those circling little, yellow birds and those goddamn buzzards,
and that puddle narrowly missed, containing an entire little universe of lies.
wretched in our ways, we begin to yield the upmost something,
those branches at the top, deemed crazy
doomed maybe.
you're a regular scratch-and-sniff,
flaky and unexpected, pleasant and guilty, brilliant and tacky,
but never full of tact.
what will we see?
stale cities and immature countries constructed of teen angst.
puberty is a myth.
make us think we grow older,
it's more than physical you know.
it's more than reciting a prayer, you know.
19, stop accusing me. i'm not there yet.
i'm not that kind of ager,
you are deceiving and awkward.
find me spinning under your vinyl,
doped on dreams.