ur sleeping on the couch

coolio

he's like, cool. not cool like fishnets and drugs and being broken hearted, not like cocaine and nightclubs and being drunk off your ass.
he's basking in sheet music and art journals and this really awesome jacket that everyone really likes and he's got this collection of cute socks (he takes them very seriously) and all these posters on his wall, all these posters like little bits of his heart are plastered on the walls. he's also got a fashion sense that was matched in heaven, clean and cut and ever so collected all the way to ripped and messy and where are my drum sticks? he's playing on stage, punk hair falling in his face (he does look very emo, not gonna lie). resting bitchface, high cheekbones and a straight jaw. and i'm just saying, you probably already know him; he's got friends and friends and friends- the sweetest boy, all rooted and made up of star wars and giant mugs. what a sweater, suspender, bow and tie wearing dumbass. person i think he's cooler than anyone will ever be, he's leaking unwritten poetry and melodies nobody has ever heard. honestly i think the coolest thing about him is his smile, is how he's still smiling after everything that he's gone through. that smile puts angels to shame. he makes my heart sing, which is also pretty cool; he's like a superhero, he really is. he's saving lives without knowing it. he's the coolest cool i've ever known to cool.