Devendra Banhart

kind of obsessed

This is what happens on a road trip

We drove to Iowa to look at Grinnell this weekend

6 hours in the car and this is what happens

College application process

I PICKED AND ESSAY TOPIC FOR THE COMMON APP YEAAAAAAAAAAAA

today was bipolar

i window painted, then got depressed and went to the spot at big bay and called everyone i miss. went home, biked to urban with reid marie and jake. purchased a dress. did not call mary or gus back. then on the intense bike ride home, we got stuck in a thunderstorm, but it was beautifully wet. drank coffee, and studied for my german test. throughout tha day i got in multiple fights with the parents, and a mini one with thad, but of course we don't stay mad for long. my birthday's in less then a week!

oh yea and i got eaten by a zombie uk uk

but that was last weekend

do it

http://www.leekspin.com/

Smoke

I absolutely adore the way my hair smells like cigarette smoke. I know thats really bad, but i grew up backstage with dancers and actors, so associate smoke with that, and then all my friends smoke, so I think of them. Too many good memories attached to the smell that is impossible to wash out. I feel like the smoke almost dries out my hair and makes it like cleaner or drier or something that's beautiful.

sam and case came back for the weekend.

and im obsessed with atmosphere.

In This Still Suburban Town

So familiar

I know this way

the bumps the sides

smell smell smell

like a raccoon that fights outside my window

no, i slink

i know

as still as a fox

leaving mass

oh joyous recall!

the bird was dead

the fox was my friend

the raccoons howled

and the frog man chased me

but i knew the corner house

the light speared by the full trees

reluctant to color

save me from the frog man

save me from dead birds

save me from the future

save yourself

I will save you

i knew it was you

amassed in the shapes

you had ridden your bike

through the night

a jaguar within

which was probably the reason for your smirk

the sideways smile that i sometimes get

no, you were a little drunk

and perhaps thought you could scare me

but you loom!

how can i be scared when you so obviously swing and

coca cola slides through my brain

with a jacket not mine

and hair damp from the ride

anyway

i knew it was you. you came out to get me

it was the only time

i couldn't wait either

and it was 3 in the morning

thank you for coming for me

because i felt it

leaving

How am I supposed to study when Gus just left. He's gone, and now I have no friends and no one to lean on.

I can't believe he left

this was such a golden era and him leaving solidifies the end of the happiest time of my entire life.

I just can't fathom how it stopped

I just want to crawl into a black space and dance to the sound of white until I'm numb.

That made no sense

I can't even write a poem right now

I just want things to go away

everything to go away except for my old life

what the fuck is going on

dancing

I created a solo to "Elephant Gun" by Beirut

and realized how much I miss dancing

leather belts

both sides the noise of the belts

against the velvet and wool of my shirts

which only point out that I have a short torso

its too dark here to see the scars on my hands, and on my legs

and to see that I've lost the knack for writing

and words no longer paddle across my brain

the blood on my hand

is no longer there

I look

although this closet is thick

I can hear the apples dropping

creating a clamor larger

then my self

falling as my arms twist and my feet feel

skimming down the branches to an unknown place

in the corners

that will become so easy

my feet feel the pavement

the water on the sharp blades of grass in the night

the bike spinning wheels

the ground splashing

and I saw a fox

and I saw a bird with no head (but someone cared enough to tag it's foot)

and I saw a squirrel with no insides

and I saw a sunrise and a sunrise and a sunrise until I come home when it's dark

my toes slip down the slime of the berries on which the chickadees feast

and touch the black underbrush

and climb home with sick stomach feeling

and strip off the moisture form my hair

and strip off my cloths from my steaming body

as fresh as the mist

yes, I've seen two sunrises

one hour apart

and you leave the day after tomorrow

and you left saturday

and you left tuesday

and you are gone

running has been forgotten

to forget pain, to release joy

this odd everything left

left

i wish the scratches were still there

or at least a scar

but all that remains are a few etched lines

that were given by deviant scissors, or some careless page

i miss

i haven't slept these past days

i haven't slept these past

days

i haven't

slept

these past days

the door never needs to be opened

the window is

enough of my mind that it spills outside

our cloths might get soaked