Pretentious love letter written for an imaginary girl imagined between NYC and SFO
Just smile and nod. Life lessons learned late. Why? Why do we live? So many wasted hours spent searching for answers that were never there. Just smile and nod
Actually, maybe Bud put it best. Their answer to the big question: Why ask why? Try Bud Dry! Makes as much sense as drinking wine as if it were the blood of an undead God I guess. Bud Dry would be the urine of Christ; the impurities of all humanity passed through His divine kidney.
Jesus it’s as simple as a sunset. Why is it so beautiful? Why ask why? Let’s get drunk and fuck! This moment will pass, let’s get drunk and fuck.
But then that moment will pass, and in the fade of the afterglow, I’ll start again to wonder. Looking at your pale skin, blonde hair, nordic beauty, wondering why. Shit. What have I done? Forsaken my soul and mind for body? Is this truly good? As in the higher, pure, TRUE good. Shit. The sunset becomes cool night in that moment, blanketed with stars, small points of doubt, questions asking why, answers light years away.
But then you turn in your sleep, brush your head against my hand, rest upon my chest, and I think maybe I could know why someday. Why I live: to fuck, to drink, but also why I live: to seek, to dream. Because you’re a seeker too, dreaming on me, with me, in those lonely nights, together, alone. Those nights when all you have are your thoughts, when all you hear is the why whistling in breeze. Why I love you.