This bed is a ship

This bed is a ship is a sporadically updated internet journal, 
a home for odd scraps of writing.

I think maybe we are both going completely insane. 

You’ve ruined me for everything but wanting you, all throwing rocks at the windows of my thoughts and falling down laughing in the middle of the Saturday night Milwaukee Avenue traffic of my heart.

My standards for excitement have exploded and there’s shrapnel in my shoulders for you, baby. I hope you like this look, this one where I’m all bloody and earnest and 100% totally fucking wild about you all the time. 

I’ve spent my whole life feeling crazy for a mottled litany of reasons and unreasons, felt my hinges bend and break and mend and break again a thousand times. I am no stranger to strange nights and uncontrollable thoughts, but these, this beast is a new breed. 

My veins are full of neon. My teeth are made of loving knives. I want to trace your lines with every part of my body, even the parts I do not have. Especially the parts I do not have. 

I look in the mirror and feel surprised not to see tiny shafts of light pouring out of me in all directions, beer can reflections and wicked eye glints and a lighter flicking on in the dark. 

I’m a rock n roll marquee all jumbled up anew to spell out valentines for you. I’m a grinning girl and a wicked dad and a night of free beers and a sky full of streetlights and stars. I’m everything, everything, anything, yours, everything. 

Sid BrancaComment