i. pastel cream hair and sleepy tongues under ice teeth and daisy velvet chokers. sometimes you wear sunglasses just cause they make you look cool. sometimes the piss smell of beer makes you want to kill yourself so to make up for it you pitch forwards and drown yourself in smoke. your friends are running to early graves cursed in bright red spray paint and bottle caps. they bite each others necks in front of you and taste sweat and laughter instead of blood. nothing leaves a bruise.
ii. tongues can feel like glass. boys on boys and girls on themselves, naked dreams copulating out on the front doorstep where everyone can see. why hide it? why hide anything here when you can moan it out loud or leave it on the backseat of a taxicab you don't remember calling? why do anything. why live carefully if you're going to die. why talk softly when your vocal cords will give out anyways. why not.
iii. you forget the way it feels years later, how your veins fucking sang out loud. the most dangerous seconds of life were the most beautiful, in the end: so forget it. you're not youth. you won't understand.
