27 April 2008.
[I don’t know about you, but I think that hearing an interpretation of words you’ve written by trained actors is pretty hot.]
What I Want to Tell You When I Say That “I’m Chill”
I am lying. I am lying like a hostage with a death
sentence over their head. I am lying like Oliver
North. I am lying like a senior advisor in the Bush
Administration making the case for war. I am lying
like a philandering husband.
I am lying, I am lying, I am lying.
I want you to cover my eyes and tell me to stop
worrying. I want you to pull my hair and tell me
to focus. I want you to wrap your hands around
my neck and tell me life is short. I want you
to fuck me until I faint dead away.