reckless nights, driving around the illuminated city of L.A. / sneaking into old, abandoned motels with your friends that you’re probably never going to talk to again after high school, but you still say the term BFF all night / cigarette filters in tiny liquor bottles, stained with lipstick / chopping off your hair in a bathroom that isn't yours and not cleaning up afterwards / young love and genuinely believing it’s the end of the world when it ends after a week, finally believing the people who warned you / burning an american flag and throwing your more-than-half-full bottle of jack daniels into the flames
alphabet blocks spelling ‘go fuck yourself’ / your stuffed animals showing up in places you don’t remember placing them / pastel nail polish that messily gets all over your fingers and hands / old photos of babydolls with a lazy eye and bashed-in faces / finally realizing the grim, origin-meanings of the nursery rhymes your parents read you as a kid / watching tom and jerry on drugs / knee-high socks with lacy tops and rip all along the fabric / getting the big-kid swing all to yourself because no one wanted to go to the park with you / tearing the heads off of your animal crackers and gummy bears
standing at the beach at 5 pm, shallow waves crashing onto your feet / burning money you know you need and using it to roll blunts because you want that rich-illusion / driving through california in a white convertible, with palm trees all around you and a girl you just met sitting next to you, while holding her shawl over her head before letting it fly off into the wind / hawaiian shirts and faded, ripped jeans / leaving a small party early and coming home to your expensive suburban condo, falling asleep alone / the ghost of nicotine on your tongue after brushing your teeth
Twenty One Pilots:
colder weather and leaves fallen off every tree / painting vent-quotes on your walls with black and red paint when you can’t sleep / sitting in the school cafeteria with your childhood best friend, jamming on a ukelele / dark thoughts at night that you turn into poetry / secret handshakes that only you and your soulmate know / scribbling out your monsters with a black pen on a three-hole-punch notebook
demolishing stereotypes, the popular girls kissing the nerd girls, jocks showing up at theatre class / games of spin the bottle and 7 minutes in heaven / throwing on your drugstore lipstick and fishnets and catching a bus to a sketchy, glow-blog-material club that doesn't require ID / sinking under chlourine-plagued water with your best friend and yelling something, floating up and trying to guess what the other said / going to a house party on a saturday while sticking to white wine and your friend that dragged you there, but ending up actually having a really good time / not giving a shit about sports but going to a highschool football game to get out of the house
Lana Del Rey:
marilyn-liner and fake lashes / oldies movies playing in the background / emotionlessly breaking expensive jewelry that your ex bought you / loitering at liquor stores until you're asked to leave / getting into a stranger's car solely because they're cute / getting drunk off moonshine and dancing on the pole in the center of the T even though you have no experience
Marina And The Diamonds:
purposely popping your bubblegum as hard as you can when someone asks you to stop chewing so loud / poisoning a milkshake at a 50's style diner / the sound of pouring a handful of diamonds against a mahogany floor / pastel pink leather jackets with a number of feminism pins all over it / a beautiful bouquet of flowers from all the lovers you met with, 1-5 for each day of the week.
you know, it’s crazy. for the longest time i was so jealous of your cups, your bed, your socks, the drugs you consumed, and even god. some of the most simplistic things. although now, i have something new to be jealous of. something much more complex.
i am no longer jealous of the cups you drink out of because now you’re sharing your drinks with her and your lips are touching hers. i am no longer jealous of your bed as for you’re intertwining your legs with hers and she’s the one who keeps you safe at night. i am no longer jealous of your socks because now she locks her soft hands with yours while walking through crowded places and is there with you every step of the way. i am no longer jealous of the drugs you consume because now you’re doing drugs with her, getting high, and even then she can still manage to make you feel higher than the drugs. i am no longer jealous of the god in the sky as for now she’s the one knowing all the integrate parts of you. you know, it’s crazy. now i’m dealing with something much more complicated.