Give to me a life of laughter Smiles, silly faces and random noises all submerged into an existence where *adults look foolish* Lend to me days and seconds and weeks and minutes where the foolish look (as) adults traipsing through the playground of growing up in a world governed by Pan and designed by Tink. I am suffocating beneath the corruption of adult expectation, too quirky to grow old gracefully and to delicate to survive Neverland and the endless swings and roundabouts. My toes tingle when forced into heels, my hips twitch, my fingers rat a tat tat my eyes crawl across the landscape looking for adventure, but alas all I ever find is greyscale billboards declaring, “Do not play on the equipment of life, else stuffy adults look foolish” and I sigh, imagine myself a cherry pie, lay back and dream of clouds floating by.
We haven’t spoken much just lately.
I’m sorry, I know you understand that me and you share a deep connection.
I still remember the very first time that I met you.
I was fourteen and sat with friends,
they wern’t freinds,
i just didn’t know it at that point.
We were in CC a chinese restuarant
closed down and fully stocked
whilst some guy waited for his family to come over.
The first glass burned at my young throat,
three quaters you and a splash of coke,
fourth glass tasted like laughter,
but what came after,
as you danced through my blood,
posioning me you fuck!
That night our friendship was forged.
You’ve stuck with me through the bad,
helped me with the sad,
i’ve pissed you out in the grimiest places,
puked you up in the worst places (yeah thanks Mr Vodka, the steps outside the pub whilst a band sings my fave song, much appreciated)
But through it all,
We had a ball.
Walking hand in hand,
Through this fucked up land.
I hope you can forgive me,
I hope that you can see,
You can’t help me.