Lately, I’ve been inspired and enraptured by Lorde, Lana Del Rey, old cars, technicolor, neon lights, and the overall teenage experience.
Milk-dipped suburban fantasies
The sweetness of bones and watermelon rinds
I’m eating ice-cream but really,
I’m tasting the soft-served vanilla clouds, denim skies,
gasoline, charred tires, or old records?
It always looks like half-past two here,
Trimmed afternoons projecting into dazed teenage girls,
letting Polaroids burn sun-scabbed colors onto their mouths,
the kind who choke on the notion of perfect lawns and perfect behavior
there’s always a sour knell beating behind the flavor.