The Winds of Winter
The rain came up out of the afternoon blackness,
pulling up over the sky like a tinted power window
shutting itself with a thunder clap, blowing the horns,
so invisble ghosts of energy rampage down the street
pulling red leaves from the trees, whipping over their heads,
dancing in them like drunk friends falling against a car,
after hours watching all the kids bland themselves in beer
so the other get better and better looking.
- Jack: Hey, you know what sucks?
- Lindsey: vaccuums
- Jack: Hey, you know what sucks in a metaphorical sense?
- Lindsey: black holes
- Jack: Hey, you know what just isn't cool?
- Lindsey: lava?
Somethings balance out the universe
and somethings are made for smashing through things
we’ve read about dying in the newspaper.
Sometimes my movie feels like Paper Moon
but I’m talking to a voice in my head instead of an actual kid.
And all I ever wanted to do was be a jokester instead of a poet
then I got sad for a while, but then I got happy for a while,
so happy that the light shot up and brain got weird.
And I saw the ruins of the way I’d been and they were cool
like Indiana Jones jungle temples.