sometimes, i can still hear you leaving me in your big, ugly pickup truck
you cradle me like i was the moon and suddenly i recognize my craters and how the holes in my body did hurt, even though i lied to myself and let my mind succumb to naivety
and sometimes i think that you press your cold, metallic lips against mine and then we're both robots, amongst everyone else in this cold, metallic world like we promised we'd never be
we promised we'd never be like the others and we would remain human but we always found ourselves somehow getting burnt by the frigid touch of the others around us, and still we refused to be like them because we didn't want to lose ourselves
when my fingers dive into the paper sheets too quick, i get little paper cuts all across my fingers
i kiss them and suck the blood away but sometimes i diverge my attention from the real world, lose concept of space and time and my fucked up head deceives me to believe that i am sitting in your hand, that your hand is the earth and i'm sucking all the blood from your fingers- your fingers are the five oceans and the blood crashes with the salty, toxic water but i still suck the blood and saltwater from your fingers because i love you
but when i hear the slam of your pickup truck and the engine starting, that's when you tilt your hand over and i fall on my butt all the way from the starry, empty sky onto the grass, and it isn't even green.
- lupo
