I wanna get swallowed by a crowd
that can tear me to bits and spit nothing out.
None of the teases of cheek bites and teeth marks
trying to rattle on and on in
my tired and stubborn skull.
Let us in, get me out.
What I've held in or written down.
When I build my time machine, I'm never leaving the past.
Even if it plagues the universe with
terrible paradoxes. Sure,
it's a risk I'm willing to take.
What you read about on the bathroom stall-
In your yearbook I signed all
the same obscene remarks. Don't forget me.
I wanna feel the carpet that pressed
patterns in your knees, through holes in your jeans.
And hear songs how they sounded to us at the time,
because they're all wrong now. It's been so long
since they were right.
I've been coming up with scary stories
to tell at my high school reunion.
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