Pullman, Washington

Crawl to the window
Whisper to me if it snowed
We’ll plot to murder each other
And I’ll be your alibi
Bind me with wire
Tell me your favorite vice
And I’ll discuss my childhood
If you need a sedative
I like rain
The innocence in praying
The faded faintly childhood
Smell of plastic
When it’s set to burn
Angel dust, the two of us
Fresh-faced reminders
Of lessons that we’ll
Never learn
I see you’re sleeping
You always can cry if it helps
My soul is by the telephone
If you’re needing sympathy
And the rain won’t wash away
All that you hold to be true
It remains somehow indifferent
Regarding the weatherman