The chemicals were coursing through our bloodstreams at incongruous rates. I was time-travelling inward through a past life I can never erase. You were hanging out the window, you said “We’re just a beggar’s banquet in space.” And you were laughing at the moon and you were cursing it for wearing your face. Me and New Mexico are orphans, or is it bastards? Either way, I think I knew a guy in Roswell, hitch a moon ride, steal you back your face.
thunderous sparks from the dark of the stadiums, the music and medicine you needed for comforting. so make all your fat, fleshy fingers to moving and pluck all your silly strings. bend all your notes for me. soft, silly music is meaningful, magical. the movements were beautiful.
“The idea of being a pirate is a great thing I think. Right? Steal everything you can. I mean that, I mean that. Like, there are some days that I wake up and I just wish that like, I wish that people would like… stop… paying for things.”—Jesse Lacey (via fightoffthefear) (via thesilverchair) (via uncannystyling) (via girlwithbrokenwings)