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{buds of flowers and tongues} taylor eagan You are doing me in the music, the downtempo, slowcore shoe gaze. You smell like the barbershop, like the sound of a trimmer. I lick your neck. Our tongues don't touch as much as they should but we want to taste everything. Your neck tastes blue in the sense that we can know how blue tastes even though it can't be tasted. I dream of blue things: moths, puzzle pieces, chalkboards and fingernails, spines of books, water in a bathtub. The music you're doing me in is blue, downtempo and slowcore. |
