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Savage Lee Writing

Textual Dérive; The Kinetic Phonetics of a Terminal Fool. Written in the Key of H

I See You Baby, Shaking That Sass

She’s a pop song on repeat on the radio. Vibrational frequencies cutting through the clouds. 

I see you, sitting there, shaking your ass. You think I won’t notice, but baby, I assure you. I notice everything. 

I notice that you’re a finger short of two full hands. 
I notice that you’re a bleeding through your wet T-shirt.
I notice that you’re looking my way when you’re looking hungry. 

You’re a cold glass of water on a summer’s day. 

You’re a fire burning in sub-zero temperatures. 

She’s a good way to win and a great way to lose. Yeah, you could come unraveled and fall down on your knees and it’d still be the best night of your life. You’re not scared, you’re not starting shit. You’re just living in the moment, feeling free and connected to everything that’s happening to you and around you.

No love in a vacuum. 

She’s a pop song on repeat and I got her lyrics tattooed inside my brain, rattling around like a pea in a can. 

I can’t take my eyes off her.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I can’t stop writing



Soon Enough, Soon Enough

Go back to school. Get off the beaches. Put some clothes on. Walk down the street and figure yourself out. 

We were enjoying the sunshine and the spiders, but now the cold is coming and its time for darkness and sleep - soon enough, soon enough.

So stop standing around smoking and looking cool. Get the blankets out of the cupboard and turn the heaters on. Get a new hat, a big fuzzy one, with ear-flaps to keep you from getting too cold. 

We had  a good summer, down by the water and under the trees with their canopies of green leaves. The birds sang songs, mocking us, and the insects swarmed mightily, consuming all they could find.

But now it’s getting quiet, and a new season is coming. We’re turning away from the sun, and off towards the darkness of space.

This is the end of what we knew of this year.

Tomorrow and the next month are coming. 


You’re all fangs and claws and sexual organs set to “ATTACK” and you’re just a shadow stalking through the dark and what am I but a victim and where am I but being squeezed between your teeth? 

Are you here with me, or are you here to put me down? You’ve got that look in your eyes that says you’re looking for trouble, or maybe at it. 

Are you hungry or is your plan to chew me up and spit me out? Are you going to take me on, and take me down, or do you just want to put me up on a high shelf and leave me to rot? 

I’m gifted with your presence when you’re around. Time with you reminds me of the reluctance to leave the bed. You’re warm at the centre and cold around the edges. You’re edgy and you’re edging me out of the bed, inch by bloody little inch. 

All you need to do is call my name and slip your leash around my neck. I’ll follow you anywhere, so long as you’re willing to drag me along. 

Things We Could Do: A Listing

We could be in love.

Or we could just be strangers sharing a thought, a bed, a sense of purpose, a desire. 

Are we afraid? To be alone? To be together? To be more than individuals? 

I see us growing together like the trunks of two trees entwined, reaching for the sunlight with branches full of leaves. From a distance off, we appear as one, a unit, a singular object with a multitude of hands extended out into the sky.

We could be friends who sleep together.

Enemies who lie together.

We could be the emptiness that sits at the end of an unfinished statement… 

Forever seeking…

A conclusion?

I Want You To (——) Me

I’m gonna strip you naked… 


I’m going to uncover you.

Unravel you.

I’m going to get you down to your bones.

And have you looking out on the world with all nude eyes.

You and me,

We’re gonna share a secret.

And maybe a bed.

We’re gonna creep and crawl into 

Each other’s dreams

And devour each other


I want you, I want you, I want you


Remember me.

I’m too tired to type this properly

I want to think about you… but I need to sleep.

I was going to write you a letter… but I’m really tired.

I’d like to go somewhere fun with you… but I’m going back to bed.

We could have fun together… maybe after I wake up.

You’re a crazy piece of pickle in a beet burger world. 

You’re a noodle on a plate of cheese squares.

I love so much about you.

Except your stinky breath.

And your stinky feet.

But I love you.

Strangers Sharing A Sofa

I dream of getting my hands on you. 

You know what I mean.

I dream of waking up with my fingers on your body, wrapped around your skin. I dream of feeling your flesh compressed in my hands. 

You are succulent, like the scent of something I’d like to eat, floating by on a breeze. 

You are sinister, like the left-handed path, always making up your own missions and being as bad as you like.

I’ve seen you. Walking around your apartment, naked. I’ve seen you posting little thoughts in your blog, half-undressed. I know when you’re naked and when you’re hungry. I know what you want me to know, and what you’d rather keep a secret. 

You and I are like strangers who share a bed. 

We’re like lovers who refuse to learn the other’s name.

We’re here, together, sharing in something simple. Something stupid. Something sensual and spellbinding. 

All I want is to know you better.
But you’re so damn good at lying.

She Was Perfect For That Moment

Once upon a time there was a beautiful robot girl who lived in a city that was built amongst the clouds.

She was a curious creature, half in love with chaos, and half in love with the sound of her own voice. She’d sing in a broken binary tone, like half a fax-machine falling through space and time.

She had pets; broken bio-mechanical birds that were always stuck on repeat, living the same life and singing the same songs, over and over and over again. 

Sometimes she’d strip naked, and climb down her tower to the city streets, where everybody was afraid of her, or afraid that they’d never get to be close to her. She was smooth and funny and kind, and she lapped up attention like a kitten licking cream. 

She was a dancer, but not in the ways that you think of dancing.

She’d wander right up the edge, and peer over it, and sometimes would even throw somebody over, just to mark the distance down…

And then she’d be gone again, off singing and laughing like only a beautiful robot girl could.

People loved her. I loved her. You’d probably love her too, if you ever saw her.

Maybe some day, you will.

© Savage Lee Writing

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