To be someone other than myself, is often
selfishly, what I long for.
And even though I have it so good,
and feel almost guilty to be
having the time of my life,
I could still use your hand-me-down body,
because it's the one mine does best next to.
Because you look like I should live on all fours.
You look like I could fail with you,
fail at remembering where you put your lost wallet,
fail at bathing after sweating with you in bed.
You look like I want to live inside of you.
And I am destined to chase after everything I want,
because the universe knows just how much
I hate chasing.
I am sitting down in a sea of ashtrays,
and you live in my foggy head,
and baby, I'll be some lightyears away.
I'm not repentant about it.