Not very pretty

Life isn't being happy, it isn't fucking easy.
Live is living, and living isn't a motherfucking carnival ride. Life is about feeling everything.

I'm not done.

-loch

We live in cities

-----

We are
Twisted and ancient
We have lasted through ages
And we are so fucked.
Maybe we are dying
Bars and
Midnights
And two o'clocks
And your front stoop
Breathing over nicotine lips
Sighing problems to your oak tree.
Maybe we are dying
But
I never really liked my name that much
Until I heard the taste of it
On your lips.

-----

^in case anyone was wondering how my weekend went! Ps I wrote that.

-loch

cause it's hard to say no

I'm alive, goddamnit. 

-----

Another night lying in your bed,

asleep in your clothes,

Your beard against my hair.

Another on the list of days

Running seven months long,

My drawer still preserved

In your room, an artifact,

My toothbrush a fossil

Of old comforts now dead.

I have spent hours

Tracing hair on your chest

creases on your face

lines on your back

and I have found, indisputably,

all roads on that map

lead back here.

-----

-Loch

Ain't nobody perfect

-----

I don't remember days,
I remember black stilettos
laying on trampolines in tears
walks home from downtown
stumbling under chandeliers
I remember
Sitting on your front porch
Chain smoking with your sister
Falling into chain fences
Dancing under oak trees
sweating under tanning oil
Tears in my ginger beer
I remember
The twist in your beard,
You're in my pulse, you fuck.

-----

I wrote that,

-loch