Andrew Speaks/Types

This is prose (?) that I wrote early last school year.

starting out, she walks into thinking range and the colorful polkish circles on her blouse reflect the light of the sun into the prism of my glass eye, resembling the cover of that pink floyd album; dark side of the moon. such colorful clothes for such a colorful person. inside, my mind is racing and losing said race, too busy thinking about if she will ever be mine. and on that thought my brainwaves change lanes and ask if she will ever be anyone’s. such a scary thought. but you say you’re not the type, because you aren’t the type. i remember the bus trip home with time turned fragile blasting through the headphones of matthew’s ipod while we conversed back and forth about the status of our heartstrings. speaking of heartstrings, would you mind if i hung from yours for as long as we both shall live? most of the time i think that it would be, but when my mind is racing i beat myself up until it’s changed itself. maybe i’ll finish the song i’ve been writing for years that announces the way i am in real love. the song that puts your middle name on repeat because i really like the way it sounds. i’d quote the great okkervil river if i we’re to say “i don’t know what you want me to say, so pause right here and add your own intentions, ________.” right here.

It’s the common reactor
It’s the long way out
It’s the stream of a motion blur
That swirls around til you drown

But I couldn’t put it down