wHy didn'T you drive Your MUstang?

i stand on my shoes, instead of sliding them on, like frog's skin.
everything's kinda slimy these days.
the floor's sticky though.
so i stand on my shoes while i aim, and then i kick them off.
everything's kinda sticky these days.
but, walking in to that movie theater i never knew was there was different.
something i can't just kick off.
and you guessed it, everything's kinda blurry these days.
but, i can't put my shoes on, i'll just tell you they're right outside the door,
and i can get them if you need me too.
Halloween III, and armrests too close for comfort.
i can smell your breath, and you'll never give me a job.
Huge forehead, everything is bigger than I remembered today.
Forty-five minutes in and you show.
like a metaphysical peppermint, i feel frostbitten,
like a velveteen rabbit, stuck to the pavement after an ice storm.
everything's kinda frozen.
and you can rip my arms off the ground,
but pieces of fur will melt away with the ice.
and the sun can shine, and i can relearn my 1-2-3's and a-b-c's
but, i can't get the taste of your forehead out of my life.
i can throw up the past and take a million photos,
but then the ground would be so slippery, so slimy, so frozen, so blurry so much bigger than i remembered.
and if Castro would just show his face, i could be the King of my own crawlspace,
"becauze i'm a low-life, be'cuz i'm the scum of your sewerzzzz."
or something like that.
but, you can just look at me and say "really.'
such a cop-out.
Such. a. cop. out.
"really."
"rwweawee," mocking.
find a tree.
i'll climb it, if i can watch you hang.
kiss me for longer.