Terribly finished
Rustic aesthetic
Rich boys are thief lords
who grew up with no father
and sank into their role
It’s on me, it’s on me, it’s on me mantra
so escape is typically running away
and kissing a girl on the mouth
or the fact that cocaine tastes better on Mt Rainier.
I’ll pummel her
watching him physically raise his fists
the PTSD gives him hyper-vigilance
and he tells anyone who will listen
that he’s ready.
Rich boys manifest destiny,
mouths like slick salmon
saying
She’s incapable of love.
Psychopath.
Siren.
In another world my head does hit the step.
And then I don’t know what to say.
Fall off the radar and the plane will come.
My sense of gratitude slowly morphs
into snarling regret
then sweet indifference
saline
clinical
new.