I would kiss you in the middle of the ocean during a lightning storm
‘cause I’d rather be left for dead
than left to wonder what thunder sounds like.
I’m not looking for someone who can save me.
Life rafts might keep you afloat but they rarely get you anywhere and I’ve got places I wanna go.
So break me in two, peel back my rib cage and cover every page of my heart with love poems
you will burn someday.
The most fertile lands were built by the hands of volcanoes,
And I wanna know what grows beneath the drone of Hallmark and roses.
I want your goodbye to feel like explosives,
Your lips, a burning building without fire escapes.
Your hips the gates of hell if I know if heaven exists,
But this will do just fine.
breaking bad au where instead of jesse insisting that gus spares walt he’s all like “why would i give a fuck? kill that nerd” and then he and gus and mike rule the criminal underground w/o issue and brock and andrea are fine and skyler launders the rest of the money she had from walt successfully and basically everyone’s lives are better
“What? Ohno, I’m fine. Thanks.” Andrea waved away one of the servers for the fourth time. It seemed like everywhere she turned there was another waiter offering her a beverage and insisting that she try it. “These guys are relentless,” she said to herself out loud.
I imagine you are a distant yellow light, tunneled visioned past Tahoe, climbing up the bigness of California, wasting time as you contemplate your thigh, the appeal of denim again the skin, style as religion, agave plant singing come drink me, spouting calderas over the nuances of eyebrow rejections, I have stitched myself into northern coasts, following the albatross that grew from your shoulder blades as you stretched in orgasm, thirsty and wheelbound, crack a fault line and shake, pour out lime and lick the salt San Andreas, should be fine.