I made Breaking Bad valentines because I couldn’t find any that expressed my love for my friends and the show.
Tea and Bad Habits
Everybody thinks
I am in the habit of setting fires on
obscure terrains, wet wood, no dry
grass or even fuel
That I
will take them, him,
you for all you’ve got
This is what they will think
when I sit with them, listen,
making mint tea at midnight in my kitchen,
suggesting they stay the night
(he’s already packed his pyjamas)
When I try to create
conversations I try to juice
all the life from their beautiful minds you’re not used to it but I’m used to this
I’m not using you
I want to break your ex-
pectations, just rest this be I want
to make a time for tea, create a space for me and you to exchange
words and laugh, joyous with our thoughts
alone, just our shared love of whatever
we love
I want to sit next
to you on a ski lift and just watch the snow
exchange pleasantries teach me maybe
how to glide on the ice, not
how to walk on water
or anything,
I have small feet and limited expectations please,
child, just
teach me how to ski
You tipped parmesan over my head
I want to shake it from my hair
without you
contemplating future anecdotes
People think I’m in the habit of
taking beautiful men
and putting two shots and one
too many teaspoons of hope
into their cups of coffee-
I don’t mean to
Drive me home in your car, oh
we do have similar tastes in
music and yeah sure I’ve always thought
maybe one day I’ll become a nudist and I also play
first person shooters
I’m on the scoreboard
I’m eight years old and this man’s got high-
futon-hopes, is this all I’ll ever be good for
Can’t you see
I just want to lie next
to you, just try to de
construct Derulo or even just
lie,
I like your presence
not waking up
knowing
that this is the most comfortable you have ever been
I’m actually in the habit
of closing my eyes and running
away from tea and kitchens, pyjamas
and ski boots,
from a mutual love of Arabic pop music, from
my own open words of sex and everything
I think
If I could I would line you all
up, cup in each hopeful hand
and I’d pour you all a drop of what
you want, but I can’t
Everybody knows I am in the habit
of taking them, him,
you by the hand and leading you down
this overgrown and cliched
garden path and leaving you- and
you’ve only dreamed of this place but
I’m already there
