MANHATTAN IS A FUCKING PLAYGROUND

by Rachel Lynch in


The kid is back. Never thought we'd make it here, but daydreamers fuck around so hard they're bound to end up in your face. Smells like a hangover from days ago, little boy blue standing at the end of road. Scar tissue that I wish you could see. Youth against the wall and blood loss. Love won't take the pain away, love won't fuck the pain away. No one listen's to you anymore and your heart has broken down. No one wants to come back home when they're on a ride that everyone's watching. You're screaming at the top, but they're screaming for you, so why stop?

But you don't need to move, love has come to you. It's broken down and sometimes shows up on your doorstep with nothing more than a bag and a old tee-shirt. And sometimes that's enough.