#1
spiraled locks or tired knots creep within the top of my head,
walker to a talker to a stalker to a faulkner and it didn't even count for nothing.
the undulations of a mr. mouth-breather's chest lull me to sleep,
and the ugly waves that our dialogue comes in so often leave open-ended questions,
lacking the conciseness of your [our] favorite wes anderson flick, though
the speech bubbles may still hang above our heads as we destruct in tandem;
delve into the great unknown of springs and summers and autumns and winters at home,
and though i swear that i don't have a gun, i guess mr. cobain may have lied,
i guess teenage angst must have died, i guess yellow buses are now white and blue buses
which will soon be black buses that will pull around our black coffins, but i got my shoes polished
for a walk in the park before i catch a greyhound to nowhere all at once and i guess you're invited.
for the walk, i mean.

"what do you you want?"
"nothing."
"that's asking too much."
#2
I really enjoyed this.

"i guess teenage angst must have died, i guess yellow buses are now white and blue buses
which will soon be black buses that will pull around our black coffins, but i got my shoes polished
for a walk in the park before i catch a greyhound to nowhere all at once"

I really like the way this turns over on itself.
I also wish I had more to say, but the piece is really well written and I don't have any real criticism towards it. It flows well and the ending is great.