Bohemia

There is such a thing as feeling too alive. Drowning underneath the cloud cover until the sun was in my throat and my blood was filled with the rain of tomorrow night's storm, I stood with my chest pressed against the milky way and sighed. Could you see that I was fading when you were walking close behind? Everything was melting into nothing when you touched the outside of the inside of the outside of her hand. I would've sang you a rhapsody, set in Bohemia, but it's been done before. Everything I have for you has been done before you one too many times by everyone who has ever laid eyes on your metallic features and their pulsing tastes. Phantom vibrations play with the symphony and I stare at my fingers, hypnotized by the size of my atoms crunching and bouncing against each other inside of my insignificant skin. Bumble bees work together and I can't seem to find my brain inside my head. It's a loss of control that I'm looking for, other than the silence. Peace is overrated when it comes to being lonely. I never realized that everyone is supposed to be a child and I missed it, because life trains don't come back around. I rip tobacco up even smaller and smoke it out of my ticket that would pick me up at  kid and drop me off at you. I was sitting on seats made up of tenderness when you picked her up and spun her around the constellations in a wedding dress; I've always looked better in black anyway. The saints can't help me anymore. We're older than we should be and younger than we wish we were. We'll be alive a little white longer and then we'll be alive forever. Inhabiting the sky, we'll wish we could be rockets again. Guns in my pocket, I'll sleep on Saturn's rings if you don't mind. Close your eyes.