In My Headphones, Lyrical Journal

My Friend Elvis On the 3rd Planet with Strawberry Jam

Into my headphones I go! Oh wow, it’s beautiful here and I always forget.

Come closer friends and get louder with song! Rise from your graves and satisfy my damn soul! I have a long way to go before I’m anywhere and I’m feeling a little lonely.
Queue it up baby! Silence the phone and make the music box play the music! Elvis came stumbling from Memphis so you’d better pay attention.
That “girl went a-walking and found a boy she likes” and hear I am a-walking and finding flirty brown eyes. I love white boys when they sing in my ear and play with my eyes.
I look away after they play too long. I forget how to use eyes in my headphones. (But I’m in Boston and it’s fucking cold so I look down.)
Anyway, it’s past 4pm and I’m going to smoke my first cigarette on the 3rd Planet. Let’s see how my hands are doing–they’re fucking frozen of course–but hey, at least it’s not raining. We’re chilling on the winds and painting cerulean sunsets. Where are my cigarettes? Where’s my right hand? Personal shoutout for always keeping the bic in the right pocket. Everything’s always right, and I’m alright too now. Exhale.

Another 27 my index finger aholds and Janis Joplin is serenading Bobby so this must be my Starred radio.

What the hell is my butt dialing? I’ll readjust while I wait for this car to pass. Ugh, cars. It’s easy to forget they exist in my headphones. I use my eyes to look around again and–of fucking course–I make direct eye contact with —.

Eyes: cars. Ears: do I have to take one headphone out? Maybe not cause I’m back on the 3rd planet and due another song on this 27. Alright then, fine.

“But dude,” I hear my eyes gleam, “he’s sooo pretty.” I even sigh aloud because I know I’m right. That’s the best part of being in my headphones, I’m always right.

The drums broke down, my smile perked up.

“Yo! What’s good dude?”  ~


I can’t believe I just took out both headphones. NOT WORTH IT. I’m just smoking the filter at this point; my icy hands flicked the cigarette and changed the next song to what I needed. Let’s just drown in some Strawberry Jam and lose all sense of self. I wanna feel all the fireworks and I wanna feel alright without my cigarette. I wanna party down the sidewalks and make friends who like my friends too! I’m using my hands to beat against my thighs–go hands for bracing the bite!

Peacebone! Peacebone! Peacebone for the guy wearing a suit cause he must have a presentation! Peacebone for this girl with a doper outfit than me! Peacebone for you and you and you! AH! I fucking love this song!

“I fucking love this song!” I scream aloud. Don’t look at me weird dude, I know you’re in your headphones too.

I keep moving and grooving along. Floatin and bogin and wishin I was boatin. All hums are jokin and all words are spoken in just the language I need to feel. I am not lonely here, I am in a crowded room in my headphones. All my friends are dancing, man.

What are yours doing?

– TB


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