Mike Driver
Acquired Stardust
d e v o n

I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation

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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@mathishard

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They say the earth is so quiet now
that it has risen itself from the dead
my chest is so still now
that I can finally hear a heartbeat
It’s been so long I didn’t recognize it
Thought it was the pounding of the fists
of all the words I swallowed instead of saying them to you
the rhythm of resentment and regret, fighting one another to the surface
war drums of the things you said to me that went right though my skin like bullets and planted themselves inside me like weeds, choking any happy memory of you, curling and crushing Polaroids of your face in the California sun
sixteen horsehooves pounding the road built of my backbone, four horsemen for each year I slept beside you, recalling the lightning storm between my teeth the first time you laid beside me
a long-conquered heart, memories riddled with the pox of knowing, a hungry ache between my legs- a white horse named for the day I began to die inside
A dying proclamation of the creature we once were. One born in the summer, under stars and streetlights in cities now barren.
A pair of small fists, a prisoner alone with your name scrawled on the wall 1,460 times
No, just a heartbeat. A solitary heartbeat, a sonar in the night, waiting to hear yours answer the call
A deafening silence, an agonizing pause that never ends. Just a single, solitary heartbeat.
The only one left in the world.
©️One hundred stories down 20fucking20

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here’s the full comic written by highschoolers and the homies of YPAC, and drawn by me. SROs are trash, I had bad experiences with mine when I did highschool. My mom issa teacher and she spends her own paycheck on supplies for her students cause the school is too busy pitching funds toward school cops who are negligent (at best) or escalate violence (at worst).
This comic was made in collaboration with homies from MPD150 check em out.
This collision
is a reaction
it’s electric and
synaptic
And it crackles
along your arms
down to mine
A repetition
of attraction
It’s supernatural
and I’m actually
not just along
For the ride
opening arguments in the front seat of your car
cross examining everything you said to me at the bar
Closing arguments echo off the buildings
As we fight on the way to the car
the way back to the car
our way back to the car
my back against the car
pressed up against the car
On the drive back to my place
you’re deep asleep in outer space
and the highways black as space
on the drive back to my place
This collision
and attraction
just pick me up
and tell me things
One hundred stories down 2020
Vacation Rental in Skykomish,
WA. 16 miles from Stevens Pass.
© SkyCabin
Carlota & Sara
Las chicas del cable (Cable Girls) s01e04
I couldn’t think of ten word “trunk” so I was like “the car’s closet”

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Dolly is a national treasure, TBH.
it’s a zipper pinch late Friday night
corset cinched one more inch
I don’t need to breath alright
How many drinks until
you think I’m as pretty as everyone else does
How many more shots
So you can blame the feelings on the buzz
it’s the booze talking
and holding my chin in your hand
it’s just the lighting
that puts your heart in your pants
and you can’t tell the difference
and you become your other you
I admit I look for him sometimes
when you say I smother you
when you’re cold and mean and dark
I try and find him, a familiar face and heart
but he’s buried so deep inside
only booze and sex can find him
a fleeting full moon midnight carriage ride
a daybreak coffin
Do not open
Dead inside
A vampire novel I’ve read so many times
I warn myself and repeat the rhymes
that this isn’t real, this is only make believe
your arm around me, hand in mine
Is only smoke and peppers ghost
and dirty barroom mirrors
One more shot until you love me
Two more blocks until you fuck me
Three words that you’ll take back
For the the fifth time, if were keeping track
but back to slurring, stumbling, back to hazy
hundredth time you’ve driven me so close to crazy
distracted teeth and tongues and lips
no better bedfellows than your hands and my hips
a heavy pulse rock, heavy yes, heavy maybe
anything to hear you call me ________
you sleep alone Im six feet under
I’ve dug myself in another
a plot, a row, a graveyard full
and wrists numb from scissors dull
One Hundred Stories Down 2020
You haven’t noticed I never say good night
when you’re sleeping next to me it’s only a matter of time
you get there first waiting for me in your sleep
And I join you as fast as I can, and meet you in my dream
where we are ghosts, haunting a battlefield, white dress, black coat, a sweet cold eternity
You wait in the trenches, or in a city red with memories
A waterfall inside a church, a bloodbath of our enemies
Your mother braids my hair tonight, while mine sews a dress of silver light
A bride fit for the fog that slips down past the tree line
A cathedral made of giants skulls and lined with silver feather pine
The children of your mountain ghost
A haunted winter northern coast
A cabin we share like little kids
A ceiling made of whales ribs
Bare feet rubbing together in the cold
if we hide in here, we will never get old
I’m sorry for waking you while you sleep
I’m sorry for burying my face so deep
And crawling up beneath you
a secret passage underneath you
To the cabin in our woods
to the city ruins that stood
above us as we sleep
my heart in your hand
for you to keep
One hundred stories down 2020
I wrote this for the times you’ve lit up bright to bass. Your face alight with lyrics you felt you’d yourself would write. Right on the money right on the nose. Knows you inside and out
somehow the beat knows your soul.
We are at the light at third street. The red light and your eyes meet. And I have search for a pen so I can write this first piece.
It won’t always rhyme plus I’m no good at rhythm. So listen while I butcher your religion with my godless infliction
Oh baby, bear with me. Just bear with me and then we’ll get on with our night
It’s just I can’t help but notice this light that shines in you. It’s been ten years together and yet how you seem so brand new.
So familiar, so worn in like the lucky t shirt I stole from you. But still baited breath. On what youre gonna go do next. Waiting and wondering how you keep it so fresh. Like a first date heartbeat. A Saturday all-night back seat.
Shit I got ahead of myself again. I’m sorry but you know you mess with my head. You’re the source of at least half my crying and a good percent of my lying. How I pretend I’m not around just so you and I can skip town. Count down until the next breakdown. A shakedown where you hold my heart ransom. A handsome arrangement is all you’re asking. Tasking me with holding it all together. Keeping you together. Keeping me together. Keeping up your blood pressure.
But still I wait with baited breath. Honey you will be the death. Of me, of you, of us. Still a first date heartbeat. Stole your shirt and your bedsheets.
I see neighborhoods in our sleep at night. A home under the California sky. A mile in your smile to a corner apartment and both the kids in kindergarten. A rose garden and undergarments.
Forgotten drawings and 3 am yawning in your car while you blare the heat and the beat of a song that made you feel young. We keep each other young. We stay until the song is sung and our clothes become undone. How many years now have I seen our bodies disappear until the morning sun. And I smell your skin in the grey in the quiet in the sad. I pack it up and put it away in your bag and wait for you to wake.
Wait on baited breath. Honey let me catch my breath. My arms are tired and full of death. So I wear your sweater to hide the evidence. It’s irrelevant isn’t it. All that matters is you’re
waiting with baited breath. Baring down your mouth on my neck. Just like the first date heartbeat. Pounding like the rhythm of the song you played for me on 3rd street.
©️ one hundred stories down 2019
For your stupid ugly ass. TQM.

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Have you ever asked yourself: “What does the skunk say?” unmute to find out
Mrehh!
I keep trying to write about it
and just as the words get to my fingertips
instead of spilling out
they scream against the inside of my chest
and spring eternal in hot tears and cold sweat
and you sleep through all of it
How do you sleep through all of this?
How have you slept at all?
©️100 stories down words ©️SouthBayBaby art (both me) 2019