Friday, April 10, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
There are new tights, and fifty degree weather to go out in.
Rum, coke. That once novel puke-y alcohol smell of bars,
and those same Joy Division songs are out there.
And I guess I think some of the jokes are funny.
But the night seems very futile to run around in
when I know what I want
and what I want is far away.
It doesn't exist in any of these Friday nights in The City.