If I wrote a book it would go like this

A worm caught in a birds mouth
about to be devoured, maybe alive
nothing to do but paint it out, wait it out
and stay away from the dreaded telephone
it's so much easier to picture you in my head when you're not sitting beside me
I would swoon but swooning is overrated

***
'we had something good' he said.
he was fucking drunk.
for a second I felt a little bit special, and when that was taken away everything hurt a bit more

'fuck you', i said on another occasion, to another someone
my mouth has become dirtier by the week and may get worse still

***
I dreamed a few night ago of Andrew Keith- we were at a party sitting on a bunk bed talking about the stars and the moon eclipsing. His hair was not dreaded but braided instead.

Last night I dreamed about a boy. It was actually the boy I said fuck you to, as stated earlier. In the dream I climbed up onto him and said "I think you are very good looking and I want to kiss you." I then he kissed me, but very very slowly (how I thought I would like to kiss him) and I found myself impatient with his slowness, and I couldn't kiss him back.