¡Intruder Alert!

I'm pretty sure I overstepped my boundaries...

Since when does my advice ever work for me?
Learning about situations that relate to me?
I need to swallow whatever sensation washes over me
Like how the oceans throw back their regrets.
I need to stop talking about me, for lack of a better term.

Daydreams come often and the theme is recurring.
It's always in my grasp but turns to dust in my hand.
Your hourglass is cracked since I tried to break you free,
But I've only let you go.

Gone is the innocent wishing.
Gone are the innocent smiles.

My patience remains.

As I sit here typing lazily, with bizarre thoughts running through my mind, I think about what lies ahead.

It's smart and futuristic,
Everyone is doing it.

-

It smells like the first night that we spent together
Huddled around a broken TV but it didn't matter

Crackles from the wood cabinet,
Smoke from broken cigarettes.

-

I'm alone and you've got troubles and angst
I'm willing to talk forever, for any length
Where did all the light go?
Stuck here forever with glory and home.
Is it glowing because I've nowhere else to go?

-

Armchair

You don't have all your clues, Nancy Drew
I used to run these grounds before the invention of you
What's there not to trust? It's just lust
I had to fall down and cry before I could possibly rust

I figured you so far, you dressed in blue
Bending over backwards only to prove
No matter what I thought, I still don't know you
There's no need to tell me the truth

There's something else I wish I knew about
How is it that I always fall in line with doubt?
I climb up only to fall off at the wrong time
crawling behind the scenes on opening night

I figured you so far, you wearing red
Bending over forwards, me wishing I was dead
Once too many moments, stop messing with my head
Your options here are too limitless

There's something else I wish I knew about
How is it that I always fall in love without
acting on a whim, asking you once this time?
Crawling behind the scenes on opening night

Curtain call on what I thought to be me
Here it falls on what I wanted you to be
Here it goes since I didn't make my move
Open the flood gates and let them in

Let me out of here...

My bones are quaking
My skin shaking
My pulse breaking
My soul faking.

Dead Fish

My skin is dissolving and my head is revolving
as my mind folds in on itself
Blender my emotions and remind the remnants
Of the problems that we once were dealt

Stitch together the ripped pieces of personality
as my soul swallows its essence
Soak all the chunks left over from mutilation
Forget about it and go get bent

Revolving around and around
Watching as I drown and drown
Suffocating, Frustrating
The world loves keeping me down

Youth

I fell behind,
the line marching in time.
Their guns in the air,
standing at attention.
I'm distracted.

I've tripped up on the laces I've strived to keep clean.
I've destroyed the meaning of the badges I wear.
I've infected the memories of the soldiers I guard.
I've shouted the orders of those above me.

Because I need more?
What am I fighting for?
My bones are rotten to the core.
My membranes are drop dead sore.

I've blisters on my hands.
I've scabs on my scratched knees.
I've disaster on my hands.
I've maps upon my cracked ankles.

I'm a disgrace, a troubled boy.
I'm a rifle among thieves.
I'm a leg brace for the healthy.
I'm a leech among the free.

I tripped up,
Apologized for my lateness.
I said sorry to myself in unimaginable ways,
As my face fell beneath shadows of a setting sun
That I do not deserve to feel.

The rightious-style trials have failed once again.
And I've fallen in the footsteps of ignorance.
Fallen in the gutter, in order to make more room

For you.

Sonnet

My stomach is digesting butterflies
Leaves are flying by through winds set on high
Disappearances are fading away
Just like shadows run away from the light
There is no trace of more obligation
The cheating karma is too wrong to die
Another average man is here to stay
The man's heart strings are pulled by a black kite
He's adapted to a scarecrow nation
His pulse beats slowly as he waits for time
Even though his chances look dim and gray
For now he's lost his wanted Tanzanite
And has accepted his revelation
Of the myth of true infatuation

(10 Syllables to each line, 14 lines)

Knots

Press your face up against the glass
as you watch all your years fly on past
The things are getting all the less interesting
and fun times are all going by too fast

Listen to the times you once had
The troubles gone with an old comrade
The things are getting all the less interesting
Can't we sit here and finally relax?

Now we won't listen to the rain
Now we won't relish in our pain
Now we won't feel so damn insane
Why does time have to be so lame?

Finally we're here and it's feeling great
Though high school's over and we're better off late
The things are getting all the less interesting
Because after all, we're still all the same.

Now we won't listen to the rain
Now we won't relish in our pain
Now we won't feel so damn insane
Why does time have to be so lame?

It's dragged us down and kicked us to the streets
My life's trying to wake me up and you're still alive
Nobody ever said that it was fair but you're such a cheat
After looking the mirror, I never knew it treated you so kind

Now we won't listen to the rain
Now we won't relish in our pain
Now we won't feel so damn insane
Why does time have to be so lame?

More Untitled

There are times that I believe
That things are more difficult than what I see

Why didn't I see
that you aren't good for me
Making me lose all my sleep
Understanding, sitting idlely before you
Take that step and take a breath
I hold it in and hope for death
As you play with my emotions
and dig deep inside my mind
Throwing curveballs and messing up the time
Time for you to make a wish
Though it doesn't seem that way
I guess it's true, who cares anyway?
With I love you and hope overplayed,
let's hang tight and pretend to delay
When really it's going nowhere at all
Catching you when you pretend to fall
Dancing with you before you scatter
It caught up with me as I fell off the ladder
Dreaming of that tiny pidder padder
It's just another dream that makes me seem sadder
Forget all the emotions and just listen though
It's all gone and memories are just a mistle toe
away

Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la

Untitled

Wait, why am I even doing this?
Crying my eyes out in the corner over something so stupid.
Besides, I'm probably inhaling all kinds of dust laying here.
So what if I acted so stupid, said all the wrong things?

It won't matter in a few years anyway, when the neighborhood's gone.

It wouldn't have made me any less awkward.

She's already headed off on her own, dealing with her own problems, she doesn't need another one to deal with.

Maybe it's a good thing that I held off on everything.

I don't even know why I was here in the first place. Maybe it's because the people that pissed you off before piss you off even more when there's only a few people left. I don't know why I'm mad either, but I am. Sometimes I worry that I can't even stand the people that I like to be with. Sometimes I worry that I'll overdose on what they have to say and who they are, what they smell like, what they sound like.

Sometimes I worry that they overdose on me.
Maybe I'm just selfish.

Gloomy

Rain rain, come to me
Crash on my front window please?
Take away a sunny day
So I don't go outside to play
Let me rot inside my house
And I won't run around and pout

I don't want to go anywhere when the weather describes me so perfectly.
It's so windy and out of control yet it knows what it's doing.

I'm just so lost but I know where I am.

I'm alone and it's exciting. I can't understand why I'm here and I can't talk to you about anything at all because it wouldn't make sense outside of my head.

And even if it did, it wouldn't make sense to you.

Drafted

I think it would be great to be a fictional character.

You'll always be there. People will read about you, hear about you.
Some will like you, some will hate you, but you won't mind.

Some people will like you and learn all there is to know about you.
Some will just know you.
Some will be obsessed with you.

Some will want you to be real so you could really talk to them.
Some will relate to you almost perfectly, like you were modeled after then.

As long as you stick to the right things, you won't die.

And if you die, everyone will miss you.
And when you die, you won't really be dead.
You'll just be buried in the pages you left behind.

There is no real drama. Everything will always be alright in the end.
Even Holden Caulfield knows what he's talking about.

Sometimes it will be predictable, and other times there will be a twist.
At least you'll have safety.

You don't have to worry about whatsername not liking you.
By the end, you'll be together, or at the very least, have an understanding on why it won't happen.

You won't be mad that it'll won't ever work out.

You don't have to worry about dealing with an enemy everyday.
By the end, he'll be dead, the terror gone, or at the very least, you'll have an understanding on why it happened.

You won't be mad that it didn't work out.

When they finally close the book, finish the movie, you're still there, lingering in people's imaginations, hopping from day dream to day dream.

By the end of the tale, you're free.

Artificial Sunrise

The process became automated. Gone was the individuality. Long after man was gone, the renovation of Earth continued through his metallic creations. Though intelligent, there was no individuality, no self awareness. Governments and advances in science continued as usual without question. The androids worked in silence. The whirring of gears was the only sound heard as the world was drowned in UV rays. Work was efficient as the ambidextrous robots quietly constructed new machines and did their routine jobs. Logic was omnipresent and traffic lights became more efficient, supercomputers were more powerful than ever. However, there was no one around to use them. This system could not disband as long as it produced results. The constantly evolving, circumspect programming in the androids always weighed the outcomes of every event and worked to prevent the harsh ones. It begged the question, was there life on Earth?

[It's for my English notes, but I figured I might as well post it here too :P]

Substandard

That girl has silly reservations
I wish I had an invitation
I'm out of the loop and the grapevine
I guess I'll have to get back in line

I wait for her at the bottom of the stairs
Hoping I'm not wasting my time down here
I'm running out of time
She's running out of time

Maybe I need a divine intervention
Not another honorable mention
I'm wasting all her time
I'm wasting all my time

That girl has silly reservations
I wish I had an invitation
I'm out of the loop and the grapevine
I guess I'll have to get back in line
I guess I'll have to get back in line
I guess I'll have to try again sometime
I guess I'm waiting for next time

Last One Out

It all seemed too calm and fine that day
When that paper smell filled our faces

The daylight leaked through those white blinds
and the air was full of it's own changes

Then you stormed in, full of your regrets
and your hands in the air full of empty bets

I finally gave you a chance
What did you do to me?

You've left no choice
No place but back again
Brushing you off
A shoulder of dead skin
Feeling fine, but like in my mind
When the party's over at quarter to five
There's you, you're the last one out

You spat in my face and changed your name
You're tripping up on your troubled laces

There's a drug in the air, I'd like to call it love
But you're still not the girl that I'm thinking of

When you stormed in, full of your regrets
Your hands in the air full of empty bets

I finally said enough
Why couldn't you let it be?

You've left no choice
No place but back again
Brushing you off
A shoulder of dead skin
Feeling fine, but like in my mind
When the party's over at quarter to five
There's you, and you're the last one out


There's finally someone who I know I care about
It might just a bit too much so I keep it to myself

My well being suffers too goddamn much from her
I hang on to her words, and hope that someday I'll hold her..

I finally said enough
I finally said too much
Why couldn't I let it be?

Recovery

I've got a scab where the glass cut through my skin
I've got the piece of glass in case you make me prove it

When the lights come crashing down
and the building catches fire
When the mood is so goddamn tormented
and there's nothing to inspire

There's finally a chance
for some true romance
You can look up to my face
and I can catch your falling glance

When we're at our worst and hanging from our damaged thread
There's nothing to be afraid of, we can live our lives instead

When the lights come crashing down
and the building catches fire
When the mood is so goddamn tormented
and there's nothing to inspire

There's finally a chance
for some true romance
You can look up to my face
and I can catch your falling glance

Crafty

I used to make maps to pass the time
and pretend that the world was mine

Erase the mountains as a mistake
Crumple it up and throw it away

If everyone's treated like an equal
How can everyone be so special?

People begging for the unordinary
With paper and pen it's simplicity

If it's early, like the break of dawn
I want to sit with you on Earth's front lawn

Then with all the drawings I began to observe
that our two lanes could never merge

Then I cried as the president
Blame it all on an accident

With tonight's final whisper
I'll retrace my lakes and all the rivers

I'll try again later tomorrow
So I can disappear from this weeks sorrow

Flash

Did I answer your call?
Did I imagine your fall?

I've come to your rescue
But you're not in danger
And I'm not your hero
Maybe I should leave you alone

I'm pissing you off when I say the wrong things
I'm wondering why I did it

I'm ripping you off when you say I love you
I'm wondering why you did it

Would you feel proud out aloud?
or keep it all to yourself?

With every emotion hung up on your shelf

Would you feel annoyed
when it all was destroyed?

And I was the only boy?

Juiced

I'm done, I'm out of it.
I'm tired of not knowing what to do and not taking action.
But instead of taking action, I'm done.

It's not worth it, it can't be with the way I think.

I don't ask for much in return, so I don't know how I'm going to survive the year.

I got off the curb on the wrong foot and that's the first impression,
another secret stalker and another stupid depression.

I know as soon I as I say this, I'm going to contradict myself and think it can't be that bad.

It isn't that bad.

But if it was, I'd feel a little secure.

My safety net is cracking.

I'm feeling a guilty hiss like one last cigarette.

Fade instead of walk away.

If I walk, it gives people to catch up.
If I fade, I'll have been gone longer than people realize.

I'm feeling embarrassed more than anything.

First Day

And then I lifted my legs up and started to glide down the small hill. Just that little speed on my bike pushed the wind through my hair. I hadn't felt this free in while. The trees rushing by, the hard concrete rolling underneath me. I always liked to imagine I wasn't going anywhere and it was the whole world rotating beneath me. It was a silly daydream, but I liked it. The skies were an offset kind of blue and the temperature felt cool but cooler with it rushing by me. I rounded the end of the basketball courts and started heading back towards the playground, pedaling faster and faster until the scenery next to me turned into almost a blur.

Today was a strange feeling though. Tomorrow was the first day of school in almost three months and I was excited, but nervous. Probably expected of anyone going back to high school. A lot people to meet, with a new class, and a lot of people to grab and hold on to after missing them for what seemed like forever. With these people, though, came the dreaded rumors and stories that started up every season like clockwork, which really pissed me off, to be honest. But like an injury report, these things were expected and taken into account.

I rode my bike clear out of the obvious part of the park and into the wooded trail, coming out in a clearing where I could see the beige bricked building that was my school. It was divided into two parts. The entrance was on the other side of the building, where most of the people came in. That's where the middle school part of the school was. Right out front where the parents could walk them in on their first day of higher end education. I started to imagine my dad dropping me off the first day of middle school, with my wheelie backpack on the ground, I headed up the marble sets excited like a jackrabbit. At times I thought I missed those days.
The back side of the school was the high school section. My section. There was a door that opened to the school store. It was actually pretty nifty. It had candy, school supplies, instant lunches, everything someone would need to survive the day. I knew a couple of the guys there so I cut through there in order to go up the staircase in the back to get into the school. It's nice having connections.

After the short nostalgia, I got back on my bike and rode back home, anxious about tomorrow. It wasn't a far ride to my house from here and by the time I got home, my sister was already trying on clothes for the next day. She was about to start high school.

"Hey Zach." My sis wasn't usually so high on talking to me, though with the impending doom that was slowly looming on her it was understandable.

"Hey sis, excited?" I hoped that those few words be enough for her to get what I was saying. I wasn't much on talking when events started happening.

"Yep yep!" I wondered if she would be as excited tomorrow.
"Hey what's your favorite color?"
"Um, violet, why?"
"It's blue now."
"Why?"
"Because there's this girl you're gonna meet and you have to be friends with her."
"Why?"
"Because, she's my friend and I want you to make a good impression on her."
"Aww..."
"It's not like that!" Even though it certainly seemed like it.
"Fine, I'll get to know her."
"Thank you."

I walked past her and the hallway mirror and into my room. I checked out my hair in the mirror for that split second and ran my fingers through it, worried about how it looked. I closed the door and spent the night alone, wondering about tomorrow.

(insthpired by a dream/daydream, though I can't dream actual stories, so if you want to know the actual dream, feel free to IM me or call me and I'll tell you if I'm free :) or if you're actually interested haha)

Dorm Room

I wish I had a little machine
that created genius from my crazy
Then all I'd need for eternity
Would be a little bit of you and me

I wish I had a little company
To stay up all night and watch movies with me
Then all I'd need for eternity
Would be a blanket and you and me

It's feeling a little lonely in Boston
With all my friends long gone
I sit around drunk at half past ten
Thinking about what went wrong

I wish I had an old friend with me
That understood all my crazy
Then all I'd need for eternity
Would be some food and a place to sleep

I wish I had acted on my whims
Instead of putting all of the blame on him
I think my thinker cap's light has gone dim
Because I started to doubt my bluffin'

It's feeling a little cold in the heart of New York
It's a feeling that's wanting to stay
Because without the thought that gives me warmth
I sit here thinking everyday

For Us, Traitor

When the time's all up, and it's all said and done
What can we say about our feelings?
Like all the things we said, before we went to bed
They're all back again.

I'm waiting for you, but it's all I need
To see that you're okay
It's a little weak, but it's the point of my beat
To see that other day

I'm watching the sun, rise up once again
In the name of our youth
It's that time when we live, to only give and give
To see that we're okay

We're sitting here, and crying
With all our excuses and our dying
Nothing seems to be here
But I'm still holding on
Holding it off
Holding out for you.

It's Inevidable

I'm gonna crash.

One day, when we're all dead and gone,
When there's nothing left for anyone anywhere

I'm gonna regret it.

So many people can't stand Hannah Montana, but there's just some kind of hidden innocence in the over driven guitars. And I need that. I need that secluded world where I don't have think about anything and the problem at hand is what to wear today.

It's at this moment in life that intolerance is at an all time high.
Sometimes, it might be better to forget about it and invest in All Time Low.

It's a little strange, I guess you could say, that
I don't know the difference between cute and creepy
That I don't know when to shut up but when I do
I end up hating myself and I don't want anyone to deal with me.

There should be nothing wrong with me, because there isn't.
For once, I don't really have to care or think too much,
But there I go again.

Crazy and delusional.

You've got mail!
Who could it be?
I hope it's..
No, it isn't..
(Answers Anyways)

Elite and incapable.

You've got mail!
I wonder if...
No, it isn't...
Nevermind..
(Answers)

Pressured and inescapable.

Hello World.
Hello Sky.
Hello Today.
Hey! How's life?

Life isn't a show, because people seem to have real problems.
Not that I would be able to understand any of that.

#92

Short Songs So Far

Summer of Runaways

Last chance before you run away, do you have anything left you want to say?
Anything you want to get off your Earth-bound chest?

Sitting in your dirt roads in midday, have your friends treated you okay?
Why do you sit here, breathing, taking your rest?

Nothing left to annihilate,
in the summer of runaways
the summer of runaways
If it was up to me, you'd be here to stay

Melting on the blacktop of the highway, why did you hike so far away?
I would run that way if it wasn't strange to you

All the thoughts that are running through are fake, I don't know which side to believe today
I chase after the detour sign, if it wasn't out of range of you

Nothing left to annihilate,
in the summer of runaways
the summer of runaways
If it was up to me, you'd be here to stay

------- *sigh* --------

Relationship Decrescendo

When the ball drops, and there's nothing left to say
When she knows she's hurt and he knows the same

When he signed his last mental autograph
And let her go up for auction

When she was running away from the contest
She hid behind her friends

----------------------

Mistaken Signs

I think I have a problem, I like you too much right now
While other guys are chasing you, I'm the one that's sitting out

I need to be more active
I need to start living like I live

When I'm around you...

I think I have a problem, I feel so happy when I'm with you
When you talk to me only, it makes me feel like I need help too

I need to be more active
I need to start living like I live

When I'm around you...

-------------------------

I went for the simple rhymes this time :P
Not based on true events, cept maybe the last one a tiny bit

Amp or Sand

A little play on words to start us off.

I think footprints on the beach are mysterious things.

First of all, they're not permanent.
They are as stable as a tower of blocks.
Right when you get a good look at them, they're gone.
They last as long as that girl you shared a passing glance with.

Second of all, they're not uniform.
They could be from anyone from anywhere.

A fisherman maybe? Coming down from Maine to enjoy the warm weather and relax?
A business man? Finally taking a break from all the paperwork?
A teenager? Getting away from it all and being himself?
A girl? Walking alone in the world after an argument with her best friends?

They all are different, but the same.

When you walk in their footsteps, you don't know exactly what they were thinking at the time, but it's a weird feeling following someone you'll never meet.

It's to the point where they could be your best friend if you wanted them to be.

Dear Mr. Fisherman, Dear Mr. Business, Dear Angst, Dear Trouble,

What's on your mind?
What do you have to say?

What's your story?

Are you feeling relaxed, happy, alone, confused?

Are the waves washing your feelings away like your footprints?

Is your shadow covering up the traces of you?

I always wonder if maybe I'm someone's temporary best friend

Oh no... here he goes again...

Wait wait! I know what you're thinking!

I'm just crazy, psychotic, disturbed!

I'd rather say curious from boredom!

I'm delusional! Mentally incapable!

I'll tell you what, I very well might be, but here it goes!

It's all your fault!

It's all your fault!

It's all your fault that I'm tripping my shoe strings
and why I don't blink and don't speak and don't breathe!

And why I tend to ignore everyone else but you
when you call and let me know you want to talk too

Where's the medic when I need one because I swear
My heart has stopped from your all your frequent wear and tear

I really hate to say it but I've fallen for you
And for once it wasn't on accident or because we're glued

So stop! You're messing with me and I don't like it!
But being the insane person I am, I wanna hike it!

It's so weird seeing you while I'm so clean
When I keep falling chasing you in my dreams

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH when will it ever end?
I've got your footsteps treading your way through my head

So before you stop me again,
Saying stop your grabbin,

Saying shut up!
Saying AHHHHHH!

Hear me out!

I'm here to let you know it's all your fault!
In a good way of course.

Another Good Night

I guess this is a rewrite of that one I wrote earlier :P
It's a bit dark.
--------------------------------------------------------------

And so she fell asleep for good.
She fell asleep with her head against the tub faucets and her wrists soaked with dried blood.
Her escape seemed so easy yet so unsure.
Some would applaud her bravery while others would scream coward.
Maybe she was in a place where finally her dreams would come true.
Where attention deserved was granted,
Where soul was more important than what was on the outside,
Where she could run without being chased,
Without pressure breathing down her neck.
Where the drama was a thing of fiction.

And while she flowed away in her dreams,
she flowed away in his.
While her thoughts lied elsewhere,
she lied in his.

He was laying under of the covers of his warm bed.
The unsuspecting victim of a strange taste she left in his mouth.

When she ran away to chase her dreams,
he wanted to follow her.
He wanted to be her subheadline in the morning edition.

Where he felt pathetic for chasing her,
others felt it was a lost cause as well.

What's the point in running after her, if she can't be chased anymore?

He put the razor down and turned off the faucet.

He felt a taste of jealousy as well as an understanding.

And left her alone to do her running.

Blue Eyed Blues

It was a surprisingly cold night in the office. The shudders let only the light of the streetlights in. Being as unofficial as I was, I had no paper work and spent my days and nights looking out the shuddered window for activity and excitement. It was another one of those nights, I thought to myself. I gave up on excitement and sat down at my desk in my green leather chair. Green wasn't my first choice, but it was cheap and being as unofficial as I was, I hardly had cash on hand. I was about to lean back and tilt my fedora forward when she walked in.

She was pretty tall for a gal, but better looking than the scum that comes in here usually. Her eyes were strangely confident as she walked up and placed this brown paper bag on my desk.

"I need you to do something", she told me.

Being as unofficial as I was, it was usually followed by, "and it's gonna be messy."
Not here thankfully.

I took a peek inside the brown paper bag hesitantly and my eyes lit up at the sight of the green in there. I should have figured from the way this gal dressed. Surprising sharp and sleek to be coming to me, then again I was praying for a surprise tonight.

Turns out I needed to check this guy out for her. Apparently he was doing some stuff behind her back and she wanted me to find out what exactly it was. Standard requests, though she probably needed to know fast, judging by the lump of dough on my desk. It would be easy stuff, I figured, plus I needed a new chair.

All I had to do on my part would be to tail this bastard for a couple of days, a couple of weeks at most. Routine for me.

Me and the gal got to talking and half way through the extravagant conversation, I realized I knew the guy. Not personally, but through a friend. I'd call her a contact, but that makes her sound too distant. I didn't let the tall gal know of this fact though she probably knew my friend anyway.

After we chatted for about an hour, she decided it was time to head off, and I strangely didn't want her to go, yet I opened the door for her anyway. As she headed down the hall and the front stairs I peeked my head out the door and watched her make her exit. Ol' Bobby happened to be sweeping his broom and walking by at the time.

"Another one, eh?" he said at me. He winked too, though with him that wasn't out of the ordinary. I never knew what he was truely thinking, but I got the gist of it.

"Yeah, Bobby, another one."

"She's a pretty sweet looking babe, I must say."

"Eh, I wouldn't call her a babe."

"Well what ever you call her, she seems like one to hang on to." I chuckled.

"If you say so, Bobby."

"You always have a way with words," Bobby said. We shared a smile and I pulled my head back in my office. Bobby was right, though. About her being a keeper and my lack of vocabulary.

I sat down at my desk and let out a sigh. I figured it should be time for me to get started on this case, and I reached for the receiver on my rotary phone. I stopped myself and froze there for a second. I leaned back in my green chair and tipped my fedora.

I'd get to work tomorrow. Or the next day.

Redundant

I repeat myself, you know what I mean?
I know what you mean...

Do you know what I mean when I say "I'm sorry"?
Do you know what I mean when I say "Alright"?
Do you know what I mean when I say "Nothing much"?
Do you know what I mean when I say "I'll talk to you later"?
Do you know what I mean when I say "I love..."?

Do you know what I mean when I say I can't do that?
Do you know what I mean when I say I keep doing it wrong?
Do you know what I mean when I say I'm just frustrated?

Do you know what I mean when I say it's a "match made on earth"?
Do you know what I mean when I say it's a riot?
Do you know what I mean when I say I'm slipping away?
Do you know what I mean when I say "matriarchy"?

Do you know what I'm thinking of when I say I want a "reset"?

Do you know who I'm trying to be?

Do you know what I think when I'm alone?

Do you know what I mean?

That Good Night

And so she fell sleep into that good night,
Where dreams were promised to come true,
Where attention deserved was granted,
Where soul was more important than what was on the outside,
Where she could run without being chased,
Without pressure breathing down her neck.

Where some would say she took the easy way,
Others would say that took the real courage.

And while she flowed away in her dreams,
she flowed away in his.
While her thoughts lied elsewhere,
she lied in his.

While she ran away,
He tried to follow her,

Where he felt pathetic for chasing her,
others felt it was a lost cause as well.

He felt a taste of jealousy as well as an understanding.

And left her alone to do her running.

A Broken Heart Mending

Hiding behind broken mirrors of the store front windows
And lying to the bleeding hearts who don't know where they can go
Sitting there crying for the ones lost and the ones found
in a quest for resistance, they're quickly losing ground

I've lost myself in the images of you
I've drowned myself in the ashes of our youth

We've got the remnants of our past locked up
next to the reminiscence,
My scars can't breathe from our last conflict
from our last clash of our conscious

The sacrosanct love of the guns for hire
I've lost myself in Saint Elmo's Fire

[I'll finish it later...]

Match Made on Earth

Then the time came.
Me and Casey were just sitting there. The broken swing over on the tree was dead still. It made me feel better in a way. It made me feel like maybe it was better to stay inside, where the life was. In that same way though it seemed like the perfect getaway. The stillness in the forest would seem so contradicting. The scariness of the silent and hidden dangers and the sensation of being alone.

I wanted to be alone.

I just wanted to be alone.

Now that Casey started to be actually happy around me, I just didn't seem to want any of it. I had no idea why. Here was the girl of my dreams literally just sitting in my lap, and I wanted to be with myself. I wanted to think my own thoughts.

So really, what happened to me?

She jumped the border.
That door that separated the dry, flickering excavation site I called my basement and the panicked killjoy of what was left of the public opened more times than ever, so that Casey could almost trip every time she came down to sit with me. Her sweatpants, t-shirt, and white sneakers just killed me every time, I swear.

When she was awake, I was so self conscious and destroyed my brain with my worries. Who was she with? Why did she talk to me of all people? What if she isn't just talking to me? Why did she leave me alone so often and yet, not at all? Why did she seem so happy around me, leaving her stress behind, and yet she still went back to her world?

When she was asleep, I continued to destroy myself, telling myself that she wasn't dreaming of anyone else. Telling myself to calm down, I'm not her only thought. Then I started to wonder how much I actually did come up in her everyday life.

These were the things best left to the emos that constantly screamed through my stereo.

So this is what they felt.
Those poor commercial punk bastards.

Their voice seemed too fake to mean anything. I still related to their words. It was like they were accidentally right. No way that they could slit their wrists and still make millions a year. Everytime they took a breath, they had another C-note in their bank account.

It wasn't fair.

So me and Casey were just sitting there.

I was thinking of all these things, too concentrated on her to think of anything else. Maybe this feeling would pass over time. Just like how we got over that swing. Just like how that swing used to swing with me and her taking turns, I would get over the turns in my stomach.

Maybe this is only a fake moment.

I really need to cherish these kind of things.

The Riot

I think this is the best we've ever been, on top of our mental world.
We're finally in a place where we aren't falling apart.

So maybe it did work out.

I'm finding myself so conveniently without crying myself to sleep.
I'm not letting anything seriously get to me. I reason with myself.

I'm not dying anymore.

It's almost as though we're stronger from the drowning, from the fallout of our personal cold war.

Kanye West has nothing on us.

Slipping away

I can feel myself slowly flowing away on the linoleum floor, with the sink running and the sliding glass door open.

I hear the birds chirping in what now appears to be a melancholy way. Sometimes I wonder how they can be so oblivious and then I envy their simpleness. I wish I could be just living, instead of caring so much and now slowly flowing away on this linoleum floor. The tiles are sticking to my syrup skin.

My eyes aren't helpful anymore. I thought back to when I spun that plastic bat around in circles until my head exploded from dizziness and the bat would fly free of my grasp. My once useful eyes would reflect spiderwebs back to me from the broken window.

What was I doing here? When they kept saying they missed me, how much longer until they gave up on my showing up again? They can't miss me all the time.

Recently I became less careful. I spilled things and didn't rush to clean them up. Instead, I washed them drip away, acting like I had all the time in the world before it hit the electrical socket.

--------------------------------

Really what more can you say?
It's almost as if you ran out of
Questions, Problems, Concerns

And you don't want to come up with new ones

The side stories, the comments, they're not reserved
so why act like it?

--------------------------------

I feel so blind, said the homeless, and the box drifted away under suspicious circumstances. One of the honest was lost in the stereotype and his cardboard sign was left in discretion.

--------------------------------

(I never post two in one day, something must be wrong with me)

Backing Vocals

In spite of recent developments, the saulies of our time are out of a job. The dedicated fanatics of a false idol are condemned, the committees of a suspected tomecide. The sentence: life. The philoneists mourn and weep outside the gates to his now vacant home. The background instrumentalists are no longer needed, now free to pursue solo careers and the video editors have another sensation to capture and, unfortunately, immortalize. Those area code monsters mess with the ratings and those new-age poets "borrow" from the minds of yesterday. The times of harmless and beneficial fun are gone. No more breaking it down and inspiring. Bring on the influences and the pressured ones. The industry has grown into a neocracy, run by the greedy and the one hit wonders. Once well established artists are dying off or trading it in and dying off. The once well established foundation of their genre is now a melting pot. Experimentation wielded strange and new results. Maybe that's why they worship him. Maybe that's why they spend so much time on his so called impact. His practices of sciamachy bought him national attention and I'm sick of it. His time was before the tainted borderlines. Though tragic, it was expected. Interesting subject, no doubt, but let me know the details when it's all over.

Matriarchy

I wonder who she likes today?
Another day another boy
Another role to play
I feel so sorry for her

Who's holding her cold hands today?
Another summer, 'nother winter
As they come, they break
I feel so sorry for them

Sitting with her at the mall
Can't understand what she does with them all
The sound of her voice
Tears them up inside
Though they won't admit it
I'm sure they're crying

Where's all the loose change today?
Hanging out by the damn
vending machine all day
Smoke yourself to death

Why's she changing the damn plans today?
The same old stuff again
I wonder who's the blame
Tell her come out of her shell

Sitting with her at her house
Can't understand, In all her thoughts I drown
The taped photographs
Tears them up inside
Though they won't admit it
I'm sure they're crying.

What's so likable today?
Is it her eyes, her legs,
The siren songs she plays?
Under her liner, she's fake

Why do they love her today?
The false promises, future misses,
Romantic roses they say
I feel so sorry for them

Sit with her in front of the fire
The cold grays resemble love for hire
The view of open shirts
Tears them up inside
Though they won't admit
I'm sure they're crying

The feeling of amberless lust?

The General Population

As I laid dying on the stale carpet, I thought back to those cold days in the basement.
And how I stared at that same light bulb on end until there was a place where my retinas wanted tear themselves out. I remember listening to those prefaded mix tapes screeching out their mellow guitars and stupid phony poetic words that seemed to mean everything and nothing at the same time.

God, I hated people. Maybe that's why I was doomed to live alone. Except for Casey, though she's gone. In hiding like all the others.

Sometimes I didn't see why she was so lovable, but every time she talked to me and smiled, no matter how fake I thought it was, it all came back to me.

But I, the one they relied on is their last barricade against the unknown. Her familiar white sneakers treaded through my mind and all those awkward incidences flew by my useless ear canal. I saw myself go crazy in their minds, their self conceded minds, the only good held back the thing they called home. Their sanity. There's a reason I was here right now, I suppose.

As my eyes shut for the last time, I wondered why I spent all my free time alone.

Landmine

So my goldfish died again.

I mean, it was a different goldfish from before. I wish it was the same goldfish, then at least it could come back. Like some sort of phoenix rising from its ashes. Though since it's a fish, I guess the ashes would kinda float.

I just kinda stared at him for a while before taking him to the ceramic tomb the British like to call the loo. I didn't know him very long, to be honest. He only enjoyed his stay here for like a week, though I don't know if he enjoyed it. You know, considering he's dead and all. I tried to grab him with my net but the sucker moved pretty fast for a dead guy. I got him and walked with a paper towel under him towards the bathroom.

I didn't really like doing this, after all he was my pet, my responsibility. I'd like to think he was in a better place, but I didn't know how that worked. I wasn't really that religious but I don't think there's like a goldfish purgatory. I can't see little pet fish swimming all over the place in hell. I don't even know how a fish could end up in hell. The sucker had a one second memory, he didn't know any better.

I pulled him out of the net with my fingers and held him over the toilet. This strange feeling ran through my body. I mean, this little guy's lifeless body just made me feel so weird. Just a day ago, he was happy as hell swimming around his little glass bowl, though he wouldn't remember it, on account of the memory loss. Now he doesn't know which way's up. He doesn't even know. It's like he doesn't exist anymore. All his fishy friends probably are worried. I don't think so. They've got more important things to worry about. Like staying underwater, I suppose. Or eating. Or remembering to breathe. Stupid fish.

I dropped his body and it made a small splash on the seat. I wiped it clean with the paper towel and then laid it over his body like an American flag over a soldier. I don't think I could stand to see his soulless skeleton disappear. I didn't want my last picture of him to be filled with a picture of a eye not blinking ever. Blach, I needed to get a hold of myself. It's just a fish.

I decided to color a memorial. Just something to look back on later I guess. I tried to make one every time something important happened. Something I could draw. Fish aren't that hard to draw, and his bowl is pretty simple. The pebbles at the bottom were just circles and ovals. I can draw that. I got out my markers and started tracing an outline of my bowl and my ex-goldfish. I guess goldfish are pretty easy to get over. I used a bolder black marker for the outline of the bowl. Then I drew the pebbles. I started to draw each individual one, but I got bored and tired of the circles really fast so I just kinda scribbled it into the background. All my outlines were done.

I started filling in the bowl and the pebbles at the bottom with solid blues and greens. The only thing I could think of was of how many words I could have written with these markers instead of wasting their bold powers on this stupid poster thing. It looked like I could have written a good poem or two. When I was done, I stuck it in my folder that I called my "art portfolio". I guess I just wanted to be professional at it.

Now I had to empty the bowl of everything and clean it out. I picked up the bowl and went to the kitchen sink. I dumped all the pebbles and the little moss thing into the sink. I felt kinda bad. I mean, if I died I wouldn't like it if someone took all my stuff and dumped it in the street or in the junkyard like I was nothing to them. So I picked up a pebble and put it in my pocket. I guess I could keep it. Maybe when I'm old and gray I'll still remember this little sucker.

Idea Drought

I've got nothing to do, when actually I have everything to do.
This is one of those moments where I just wanna drift away and die.

Where's the punctuality I once displayed with my ace remarks?
Why do I want to die right now and a corpse and have my sorrow instead of waiting all life for five minutes of fame?

Why do I get the feeling that in the end, I mean nothing?

I've been wired into the system, yet I feel disconnected. Even the Network has ignored me. I feel like joining the spirit of Lushotology. I want to feel so gone that I have no where else to hit. I feel like hitting rock bottom before getting back up.

I can't remember a thing, my mind is in a hundred different places at once. I can't concentrate. Essay due on Tuesday, what do I do? Drift away.

Fire burning in the main place, where is my conscious? I can't think straight at all. I feel repetitive. My minds in a hundred different places at once. Where is my spark? I feel like dumping people out of my life that don't help me at all, though it's not their fault.

The memories and imprints that make me up are shattering. When I see you cry, I die. When you crash and burn, what hope do I have? The happiest person I know gets blue and it feels like a bad balloon. A defection inflation of the ninth retaliation.

I used to be scared about falling asleep and never waking up. And when you wake up next to me, do you cry because this is where finally ended up? Now I welcome the endless prayer. Place me in purgatory, Holden Caulfield, because now I'm awake and I feel so useless in this society we call home.

A demon's suicide note burns in my hands and I feel the pieces scar my palms. The death of millions in the streets of San Francisco when I hear you scream out, "New York!".

My brain's falling apart inside my head, a concrete rollercoaster, a mental lag. Browser failure, crisp books with bent spines, why don't you help me out tonight?

Smoke me to death, Newport rings.

My mind is so gone...

Bad Day (music class assignment)

Act I
The walls were thrashing, the floor spinning in place. The carpet was being pulled out from underneath me all at once. The posters on my bland bedroom walls were torn and ripped into confetti pieces.
I had a bad day.
I slammed the door. The hinges cracked and squeaked. I threw around anything I could grab and laid down on my bed. I closed my eyes. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. I finally had a moment of relaxation realizing the day was almost done. I was drifting away. I didn’t have to lay here on this bed. Then I had moment where I realized the day was not done at all. I could go anywhere do anything I wanted. I could fly. I could dance. I could sing. Not well, but whatever I wanted. I opened the door and I ran outside. Shadows chased me into the woods nearby. The sun leaked through the trees and the cool breeze threw up orange leaves and dead leaves. The smell of soggy wood wound its way around the maze of forest and I was alone. The center of it all. I was done. I was there. There was nothing else to do but run. So I ran. I ran until my legs fell out from underneath me and then I kept going. Before I knew it I didn’t know where I was, but I kept going. The edge of the woods came near, and I almost reached it. I fell short as usual. Like everything else I tried in life I failed. I thought back on all the times I didn’t talk to her. I thought about all those people I mistreated and all the things I should have done with my life. I could have done anything. Now I was laying here on the wet leaves with my head against the soggy wood. The sun no longer kept me enlightened. The shadows became longer and the animals began to talk to each other. I was too far away from home to make it back before anything came out. Even without the sun, the moon and the stars were enough to keep me there longer. The endless void of broken glass we called the night sky filled every inch of my vision. Days seemed to pass. Now the shadows were reaching forward. The airspace was closing in on me.

Act II
I awoke on a ship. It was still night time, but the moon lit up the majestic red of the floorboards and the motions of the waves gently rocked me. I was on the front and I seemed to be alone. I didn’t trust anything here. Who knows how I got here? Yet, I seemed to explore. I noticed all the details. The fine, sanded wood ran between my fingertips. The boards underneath my feet refused to creak and the rooms looked like they had never been touched. I sat on the steps leading to the upper deck for quite some time. My elbows rested on my knees and I looked up down and around. No one was here for now. Suddenly cold energy rushed through me as if a ghost had gone through me. The feeling didn’t last long and I went down to one of the rooms. Paintings on that wall suddenly lost their color and the wood became dull. Crashes from the waves increased and I ran outside. My sneakers became soggy and water started to rise. Sails came crashing down and I could suddenly hear the screams of a thousand people. The brilliant red the ship once possessed was gone. Winds blinded me and I fell. I kept falling. The salty water engulfed me, but I continued to fall. The darkness called to me and no longer did I have control. My lungs burst and my eyes enflamed. I stopped resisting and let it take me. I’m now iced over.

Act III
“Think fast!”
My eyes opened and I could suddenly breathe. Food came flying at me. Cans of preserved fruit and vegetables landed in front of me. A flour soaked apron draped over my tattered clothes. As everyone else ran around me struggling to fill orders and putting together their dishes, I took a minute to look at everything. Again, the walls were painted a bright red, just like the ship. The floor was red as well. This whole time, I’d been thinking too much and wondering. The swinging doors kept slamming into the tables on wheels.
“Get him!”
Before I could look back, dogs had been released on me. What had I done? I didn’t even know where I was. I ran outside while people gazed as the dust trail of flour and sugar left them in a fog. I ran through this foreign town in a blind man’s fashion, choosing paths at random, running into dead ends as I heard the dogs bark closer. I took a left. A right. Another left. Over a fence and through a backyard. I ended up in a strange part of town. While the buildings back there seemed deflated and the street lights barely able to cut through the dust in the town, here was someplace quite out of place. Bright Christmas lights dangled from street lights and the dirt road was neatly in order. Market stands were still open from the day. I gave severe thought to picking up a tomato. I walked with the piece of fruit in my hand. Suddenly, the dirt kicked up and I heard the dogs picking up their pace. Would they ever give up? They went the other way I was left standing there terrified. What kind of thing had I gotten myself into? Where were these alternate dimensions I was in? I kept walking and left footprints behind me, kicking up the dirt. The barking returned and I started jogging. The lights seemed to fade and the homeliness disappeared. I ran. I tripped.
I woke in a padded room. Straight jacket on tight. Screaming gained no reply. The war between me and this piece of fabric went on for what seemed like several hours before I gave up. Sitting in the corner with my mouth now magically taped shut and my arms tied behind my back, I began to wish I was in the forest again. Running was my escape. Now I’m in a mental prison. I thought back on all the times I didn’t talk to her. I thought about all those people I mistreated and all the things I should have done with my life. I could have done anything. Now I was laying my head on a cushion designed for the most cracked of minds. I began to think deeper. The things I nitpick at are just not the same. Are they really worth picking apart? Should I really correct little things that bother me? Is that what I really really need to do? If I correct it, will something else just become more noticeable? Will correcting that period actually make it Shakespearean? Or is it the big picture? Is that Shakespearean piece really what's wrong with it? No matter fixing the grammar if it's going to end up no better in the end. Then again, maybe it makes all the difference. Maybe one rose on the doorstep can solve anything. Maybe one letter in her mailbox can help the situation. Maybe one tiny fit of rage will make something more understandable. It's hard to tell until someone actually goes through with those things. I'm not the best person in the world. I know for a fact that there are way better people out there than me. I know that I'm not always the most moral. But I know that I don't deserve this. Do I? Do I deserve to be in this mental prison reserved for those of writers? A place with imaginary people tapping me on the shoulder. Soft tunes in my head. Playing. Half slanted eye lids. Good times well lost? Time is a Lost and Found. My lost and found that will never rebound because someone keeps stealing it from me. Better thank who I want. Everyone knows it might be too late. Conversations with myself telling myself where to go with my life.
Is it too late for me?
I woke up in sweat. The posters still ripped into shredded puzzle pieces. The door still cracked down the middle. It was all a dream.
I had a bad day.
Maybe I should go outside and run.

Fader

I saw your CD sitting in the bin
I picked it up
And read your description

I think that you'd be just the band
That she would be
Interested in

I'm pretty sure she would like you
You're just her style
You have no clue

I paid for it and went to her home
She put it in the player
And turned up the stereo

Now you're sitting on top of the whole world
Drinking all that stuff 'til you thought you'd hurl
When talentless became a synonym for rap
You knew I'd quit and turn to you
Maybe tomorrow..

She loved it, she's so thrilled
We went to your show
She thought you guys killed

She showed it to all her new friends
But not to your surprise
They all enjoyed it

She's got your shirts and wearing your hair
Everyone's doing it
Now they've all got flair

I've turned you into the hit of the school
There is no finders fee
Isn't it cruel?

Now you're sitting on top of the whole world
Drinking all that stuff 'til you thought you'd hurl
When talentless became a synonym for rap
You knew I'd quit and turn to you
Maybe tomorrow..

If I would have known what would have happened
I would have kept you unknown
Put you back in the bin

Before you knew it, a couple months later
You've broken up and all your fans are haters

I saw your CD sitting in the bin
I picked it up
And read your description

I remembered what could have been
Maybe I'll finally give you a listen

Melolagnia

Stop screaming out your New York hopes and dreams, I'm sorry to say that you're stuck here. There's no escape. The same restraints that have me tied down are keeping you here. Trust me, I wanted to get out too. I wanted to find a better place for my personality. I took the advice of people I have never known or will ever know and I started to notice things that no one else cared to dedicate a thought to. If you really think you'll really make it, go ahead. Run. Runaway. See how far you'll go. I want to see you kick your heels up and head for the hills. Next you'll be wishing that you were back here. Where is the future when you need it? It's gone now. No hard feelings, but it seems that there were no feelings to begin with. You want a more explosive life, I think I want you out of mine.

It's sad what I do when I'm alone and without you. I sit around and I mope. I cry. I sit and wish that you didn't have to run away. I still play the mix CD that we made the summer before you ran away. I never want to get out of bed. Where are you now? Did you make it? How far did you get before your legs gave out?

I wish I was the one that could make you smile. The one that made you answer slyly to questions regarding relations. That one that made you think about what you were going to wear to school that day, though it wouldn't matter what, not that I don't care. "Keep your head up soldier", they told me. "Don't look down", they told me.
They called me confident
They called me insecure
The case has been closed, but I'm still thinking about her

So where am I now?

I know I'm not a savior. I have a staple in my heart that means nothing. I have notes that mean nothing. I have short stories that mean nothing. I have the urge to finish off strong, only to blow it off in the end. I strive for the rock opera rather than the street cred, which limits me. I've become a hypocrite, a hater of haters. A phony, a fake. No better than a wax figure.

Identity crisis from an unknown agent, where am I?

Who am I?

Reset

Reset.
Start over.
Ran out of quarters and chances.
Should have taken the chance when I had it.
Read the instructions.
Send it back to the store, I don't need it.

It was different in the beginning.
A hint of innocence.
A sense of base.
An understanding of who was who and where they stood.
A perfect ball of twine.

There was something that was just amazing, thrilling.
Something that killed me inside and brightened my day.
All I can imagine are the clouds opening up and then that little bit of sun peeking through. Maybe a little lame, maybe a little pretty whatever.

Now that something has me so damn confused, I don't even know where to begin. I don't know how to go about my day or how to speak anymore.

But enough about me, what about you?

Shoplifter

I knew there was a reason I kept stealing from that place. Despite the frequent warnings and the cautions signs taped everywhere mentally, I kept doing it, which is normal I guess. If you kept stealing from the same place over and over again, you're bound to get paranoid. Maybe they learned and set up something new, some new challenge, or are watching more closely. Either way, whatever I came up with just made me feel a whole lot more scared as time went by. And I don't tend to get scared. I was just walking down the refreshment aisle of the local gas station. It looked kinda old from the outside, but the inside was all modern shit. Slushie machines, Twinkies, you name it. I guess it was one of those corporation vintage things. You know, where they make it seems a lot older and glorified than it really is. So that whatever Joe and his minivan of family feel like they're going to, like, the first gas station ever. Like you expect to see a plaque or something outside the doors, which weren't automatic so that just added to the effect. Wooden and big handles. Cute stuff. Then as soon as you headed in, the 21st century hit you, you know? It was like a blast of plastic and metal that was too new to even exist. The top notch in consumer technology. Even then the Slushee machine never worked, but I guess you work with what you got.
Then again, no one really stopped by here. Not that it was in the middle of nowhere, it just was inconvenient. Or maybe that vintage thing backfired and people thought that it was abandoned or something. Pretty soon it became a teen hang out. The Death Valley of Coca-Cola and weed. The gas guys tried to shoo them away one time, but it didn't quite work. They would keep coming back. They called the cops one time, but that didn't work either. Gas station misfits are apparently low on their list of things to give a shit about. So time went on and the alley way beside the station became filled with coke cans and gum and condom wrappers. I've never seen anyone doing anything back there, but you could only assume. Who would want to do anything back there anyway? Though to be fair, it was cleaner than the bathroom inside the station. I guess the 21st century stopped at the restroom door. The keys to the back became a key to the city dump. I've heard of a few kids that went back a few times, but they were the ones who created the mess. I've heard of graffiti and blood on the walls and empty chip bags and rats on the floor. All of I've heard, never needed to go back there that badly myself. There's a myth of a junkie that went back there to smoke, he liked closed spaces or something, and he never came out. Of course this is only a myth and some of these airheads are very unobservant.
But I knew there was a reason why I stealing from that place. Even with my "Big Brother" phobia of the gas station attendants, if you'd even call 'em that, it was so easy to walk by. I might've been an expert at it, a guru of thievery. At that place at least. Lots of those teens that hung out around would try to snatch a soda or a bag of chips and have ended up wounded. Those cashiers don't mess around. I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to attempt an armed robbery of the register though. First off, there's probably no more than twenty bucks in it at a time and secondly, there's a handgun under the counter. I know, I've seen them whip it out occasionally.
I only stole small things, postcards that reminded me of the home I got kicked out of, packs of gum, things no one would miss. Things easy to hit and run with. Things that I could hide casually.
I remember one time during the attempted hijacking of a new postcard they had, they called out my name and I freaked. Majorly. I almost bolted to the door, but I built up my cool and casually stuffed the postcard in my hoodie jacket. I turned around slowly, but not slowly enough that they would think something's up. They asked me why I was so interested in the post cards. I could feel my heart pumping loudly. I don't react that well under this conditions. I lied, as smoothly as I could. I told them that they were really neat looking and reminded me of my grandmother's home before my family had to sell it because she passed away. Kind of a lie, but not really. They really did remind me of my grandmother's home, but she's still alive and all. They just kicked me out of it. About a year ago, so I wouldn't know now. They just said "oh alright" and went to the back of the store for a mop. They mopped that old forsaken place four times a day, I swear. I just looked at the postcards some more so they wouldn't be suspicious. I like to think I'm real sly, and went back outside to join the rest of the kids and their skateboards and Mary Jane. It really makes you wonder where they're gonna end up in five years. Even more than the people in the high schools that can't pass English.

Dirt

Damn my detective skills.
Damn my digging deep.

What fossil did you expect to find?

One you didn't like, that's for sure.

But yet, you have hope because you know that even though you don't have it, that fossil can't mean that much.

Can it?

Coffee Shop Valentine

The sunlight was pouring through the blinds and the wooden part of the floor glowed that piquant orange that showed up after playing in the park all day long. The carpet showed where the slackers forgot to finish.

She was suffering from the fallout of the nuclear family.
Her sunglasses covered her face like wasp eyes and she was interlocked with the talking suit jacket. Her hair was this blonde color and was pulled back. The suit jacket was standing by the counter looking over the talking aprons.

I hid in the corner, behind my foam cup. Hardly a sight of grace. My legs crossed under the table, yet I still felt ashamed.

I wouldn't stare, but I would certainly glance. Occasionally our eyes locked, like magnets, but the connection broke shortly afterwards. Not that it mattered.
The suit jacket sat down.
I didn't have much to say anyway. It seemed like the end of a long day. Had this been 20 years earlier, maybe we would be putting away our toys now. Had we not met for another 20 years, maybe we would be in less of a joint and more of a hangout. The sunlight reflected off her wasp eyes and sent a sparkle through my eyes and an urge to stretch down my spine.
The suit jacket said something and she smiled. It felt so wrong to watch that.
I sat back and stared at the white ceiling, searching for pictures in the patterns. My coffee had cooled down to a comfortable temperature and I took a mouthful instead of a sip. By now I'd settled in and had grown steadily.

I gave up on the picture seeking and went back to the people. Writers, corporate choir, brunettes, more couples. Yet no matter what I looked at, her and the suit jacket collected my attention. Everytime the door opened, the light poured in and the wasp eyes sparkled my direction. Goddamn myself, I thought. There was no point staring at the spotlight of the coffee shop stage. This play was melodramatic as it was.

Something changed though. The smile that once inched it's way across her face every few minutes was growing dull. Empty. A doll smile. One that captured my interest yet again. I might have grown hope that suit jackets weren't everything, though he looked great to be honest.This play was lime lighting two Hollywood stars and I was completely immersed. I wanted to take action. The suit jacket got up and headed towards the Men's sign down the hall. Now was my chance. I could say something. I could go up and see what was the situation. Here was my backstage pass to the event of the day and it was slipping away through my thin fingers.

I could come to her rescue, but what if she's not in any danger? Maybe I shouldn't be her hero and leave her alone for the prince of cosmopolitan. I grew another soul that was more useful to me. Another chance to not interfere.

But our eyes locked again. Longer this time.

I could pull her away and tell her she doesn't know who she is. She blinked twice, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, as if that actually meant something. The platitude of her eyes killed me. The case is closed, I promised myself. There was no need to throw yourself to the fire. This only adds to my evidence. My proof of an insane incident.

I looked away quickly, my head rotated and all, but I swear I could see her smile. The shadows grew long. I felt like I had played in the park all day. I sat back and breathed those breathes that made you feel important.

Shallow Remarks

He flew through the air and settled in through a jet stream.
His feet picked himself up, he glided effortlessly.

She cut herself at the throat and pretended.
Her clothes told more lies than her expressions did.

He was part of the Murder City, desperate and ashamed.
His soul innocent yet torn, he walked with her.

She didn't seem to know anymore, chances fell and anxiety jumped.
Her mind was not made up, yet she acted.

He didn't want any part of it, yet there he was.
His thoughts swirled and he couldn't understand.

Where was his sanity? Though he knew what was happening.
His admittance was truthful yet empty.

Wild and fearless, the weapon of insanity.
Her innocence corrupted itself mentally.

Fell into the tracks of the past, he's settled.
Taking panic one step at a time, he wishes luck.

Secrets of no one, president of a culture.
His pockets full of bullets, he settles.

Ready for anything, let them out.
Her flow and sense drives them out of their mind.

Outcast or thrown in? Point blank.
Here lies a bankrupt comrade.

Up or down? It's only her choice after attack.
Pounce from behind and it's too late.

Bite the bullet for a fallen friend.
She crouches like the one waiting.

Now the time rolls around and I'm still in the same situation.
I realize and die at the same time.

Glimmer of hope for the one that let go, glasses to the sky.

Goodbye.

Remains of a Fire

I don't remember much.
My mother says that at one time, I could go outside without having to worry about stepping in the wrong places. Any memories I had were lost in the ruins of what used to be the woods. Some are hidden though. Not mentally. I got mad at my past after thinking and ripped out a soggy shoebox out from underneath a pile of clothes in the basement. I almost wasted an entire lighter just sitting there clicking it in front of the photos. The only connection to the world before I don't know what happened.

That's what happens when you think too much. You do too many stupid things. Yet I still sat against the familiar wooden pillar. Holding the lighter before the world. Extinguishing it.

So I got tired with it. I got up. I'm glad that I didn't become crippled from being down on the floor so long. I brushed off my pitch black jeans and pushed all of the dirt off of me. I bent over and then stood straight up to stretch. My arms reached for the pipes on the ceiling. I yawned and then walked slowly to the staircase, the ripped pant legs of my jeans dragging along the concrete floor. The steps seemed noisier whenever I was on them. What time was it? I was always tired now, so it was hard to tell. The door at the top was made of wood. It probably looked very nice a few years ago, though it was now aged. Casey said it was lifeless. I don't think that. It's not lifeless, it just has a life of it's own. Just imagine what this door has seen. Alright, not that much I admit. I mean, it is the basement doorway and unless there was a murder here, I doubt anything interesting passed through here. Unless blood-filled garbage bags were dragged down these steps, I doubt this door had seen any action. Luckily for me, the doorknob was still in great shape. The rusted knob turned easily and the door swung open.

As soon as the door tapped the wall, I could hear footsteps running towards me. Instinct told me to hit the deck.

The footsteps came closer. I was hidden by a shelf but the footsteps were so near, I started to hallucinate and groaned. Then I sighed when white sneakers came into view. More than sigh. More like a silent cheer with an extra oomph. I looked up timidly, embarrassed.

"Get up man!"

I couldn't help but smile. Casey was the only one that made me smile. It made me look goofy.

I got up as if a general had called my attention.

She was so fucking cute, I was about to lose my mind. And so, I continued to gawk at her for about minute before realizing she was looking at me weird and started giggling. Oh joy, another thing to sweat over. I laughed nervously.

"So, it looks like you finally crawled out of the basement. Remember what daylight looks like?"

"I'm not sure, I might be completely nocturnal by now."

"Oh I hope not, the rest of the people are getting excited because Fox is putting a window in."

"Really? Aren't they worried about the sun burning up shit?"

"No not really, they think that their techy experiments worked."

"Yeah well, we'll find out."

We stood there for a while. It wasn't awkward, which was different. She was looking at books on the bookshelf, and I watched her look at books. Just something about the way her hair draped over her shoulders and the way the sweat shirt fit over her body just made me feel all light headed inside. I felt kinda dumb.

"Have you ever read this one?" Her voice caught me by surprise and broke my trance. I looked at the cover real fast.

"I don't think so." I hadn't read in a while, maybe it was time. If she was into it of course.

"I think I might give it a spin, it looks interesting." Goddess.

"Yeah it does." Lame.

"I'm gonna go see how they're doing on that window, but I'll see you around. Are you staying upstairs?" Flawless.

"Uhm. Actually I think I'm gonna go back downstairs. It's colder down there." What was I thinking?

"Alright then, catch you later." Wink.

"See you." Sorrow.

I turned around and walked the most regretful walk I could have ever imagined in my naive world.

Spanish Solutions

She wrote a letter to me just the other day
It seemed hard to get but it had to be some way

She told me I hadn't been myself
And that I shouldn't keep myself down

She told me that I had to be more upbeat
Instead of being all over the place

Yeah she's happy with that other guy
But hey, she told me, that's life

See them together in all the albums
It's alright though, she's happier with him

I didn't lose her, just a friend to me
Someday we'll all laugh in front of the TV

It's alright, It's alright
All of us get through the night

Sometimes all of us have to fight
Sometimes all of us have to fight

If I have too many problems, I say sorry
If I get too different, I feel too boring

I may not have a storyline, and I might not have a script
I don't see the point in being heartbroken and having feelings ripped.

When the Time Comes

My head rested against the old, rotting wooden beam. The dim lightbulb penetrated the darkness of the basement. Winter nights were now unbearable after we had to cut back on the heat. I couldn't ever figure out how we made it this far. I'd seen movies about the last of mankind. I've read books and reread them. I've read theories and thought of ideas. As a kid I drew comics and wrote stories about adventures like this. Blowing up zombies and vampires and werewolves and whatever else my mind could think of. Now here I am sitting on cracked concrete watching the dark evolve into nightmares, listening to the stereo system reverberate switch through CD's we found. Mix CD's no less. Some of the songs take on a different meaning now. Shadows became a living nightmare, punk outrages against a nonexistent government, techno songs asking for death. The stairs creaked and I froze. My eyes locked onto the wooden handrail and my body died inside.

"Are you alright?"
My spine relaxed. Casey's old white sneakers were unmistakable.

"Yeah, just cold."

She walked over slowly and sat next to me.

"So what's new with you?"

She rested her head on my shoulder. Her sweatshirt was still white, despite all the years she's been cooped up in this dirty old house. Something about her kept the monsters away.

"Nothing Case, just sitting down here in this cold room trying to get my mind straight." I blinked slowly. She calmed me so much it was unbelievable.

"You do that everyday for hours on end. I couldn't do that. I can't even work with the people we got here. They're so uptight and-"

"Well they're uptight because we're running around without any fuel and we're running out of food and shit."

"I know, it's just... people need to chillax."

"Yeah, totally." I sighed. We sat quietly for a while.

"What do you think about?" her voice carried unnaturally through the room.

"Everything and nothing, I guess."

"Explain. You're always so quiet, I never know what you're thinking and it worries me."

"Just everything. All those life questions that everyone has. All those little moments that now blend together. I just don't know what's the point of living right now."

"It's alright, it's life. It's a miracle. Just go with it." She nudged my shoulder.

"I'm trying. I'm trying..." My eyes closed and we sat next to each other for hours. Then I dreamed of everything.

I woke up and Casey was gone, so the darkness crept up again. The stereo was playing static again. I tried to get up but my legs were stiff. This basement became my room. No one else came down here. Except for Casey occasionally. Even then not that often. In a way I was glad she was worried about me. It meant someone cared. Was I really that lonely? I was also glad that the basement didn't have windows. The world looked lonely itself. The trees were dead and the soil couldn't grow rocks.

I still couldn't get up so I sat there some more and watched the dim lightbulb die.

Monsters in my Closet

Everyone's got secrets. Everyone has that pile of dirty magazines under their bed. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. The only problem is that the monsters ate my skeletons. What does that mean? I don't even know.
I stared in the clouded mirror. I had a random outburst of hygiene control. My hair was getting long and the comb kept getting stuck in the tangles. My thick scarlet sweater was making me sweat underneath. Must my force myself to fit in? Either that or have the mob after me. Again. Brushed my teeth. Flossed too. That was a rare occurrence. Washed my face. I was no runway model. I wasn't runaway bride material. I couldn't get away with it with how ordinary I was. I'm the girl that guys are friends with.

Now came the hard part I thought to myself. I hated doing this part.

========

The paper stared at me with it's eggshell confetti color that just begged me to mark it. What was with the librarian and her fancy paper? Even on a stupid worksheet, nature was being reused and recycled. Life lessons are everywhere, children. Her voice echoed in my head. I've lived too many life lessons. I've had the chance to make mistakes, and I've taken advantage of it. But I look around and wonder how many of these dimwits are going to make it in the real world. There's not enough hairnets and fryers to go around for these people. It was one of those times where I kept my head down and kept my eyes on the speckled paper. I kept tonguing at the cut at the front of my gums. I need to be more careful with the file. Sure, some may think fangs are sexy, but it's rather annoying when it's not Halloween and you're trying to chew sideways. I finally wrote my name down on the line. I spent a good ten minutes doing that. Carefully swirling the dot of the i and making the strokes of the n quite bold and ornate. It's funny. You'd think after a couple decades, Allison would have lost it's touch. The silent bell rang in my teacher's eyes. I was out the door before anyone noticed my seat vacant with my paper finished left on the flat top.

Sex was love to these adolescents. I walked down these halls and looked all the hormones flowing through the students. My "peers". I heard footsteps and immediatly gasped and sped up. I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was only Dan.

"Hey Allison."
"Hey Daneil."
"Why can't you just call me Dan like the rest of the universe?"
"Why can't you call me Ali?"
"Because you're not Ali, you're Allison."
"And you're Daniel."
"No I'm not."
"That's what it says on the football roster."
"Yeah, but that's professional. Hey wait slow up!"

Oh yeah. I had the tendency to speed up when talking. I guess it came natural to always stay on the movie. It didn't help that I could probably be at my class by now, finishing up on whatever assignment was tossed at my face.

"But yeah, Allison, you still announcing the game on Friday?"
"Daniel, I've been doing it for the last hundred Fridays, why would this one be any different?"
"I don't know, just don't want you to miss me doing anything special."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, but I gotta head off to English, Mr. B's gonna kill me if I can't get that C up."
"I understand. I have to be heading off too."

He walked into the classroom. The hall was empty so I skipped to my class. Not a good idea with my sweater on.

I was glad when lunchtime came around. Walking fast and skipping tended to wear out your muscles faster when you moved faster.
My eyes burned as I walked past the scent of bleach and other cleaners on the way to the table.
I hated my sense of smell.

5 A.M.

Drunken Randomness for half an hour at 5 in the morning:

I saw the age left in her eyes
Undecided, unrealized her doubts suddenly had come alive

She had that sad look upon her face
Everything left behind to her slowly became replaced

Either way, I say, you've gotta get up and get out of town
All the things you thought you loved are no longer around

Did you throw me away intentially or was I another dropped penny
Another miscalculated loss of the notches on your bed

Relocating my drunken thoughts during the long summers
I'm waiting, I'm here waiting. Come to me, in my head

I'm dreaming, of your thoughts
I'm sleeping, in your arms

I can't wait, for us. Every moment, Every stop motion movie.
Small steps, deep breathes. Don't speed up, hold off on the losing.

We're too in a hurry to grow up
Drive fast and watch times blur by

Listening to the letter blocks that we spelled out so long ago
Dance to the plastic tape recorders you left over my house
Play with the scale cars on the carpet
Rot to the bites of your apple tree in front of your window
Sleep in the backyard adventure we called home

But it's okay, in the end we're young
By the time we've figured it out we're done

Forget about the times you found me in your tree outside
Trying to grab your attention from the road
Scar our memories with thoughts of suicide after simple wounds
Damn those who got in our way and ruined our playdate

Pouring sand into the crevices of our demons
It's okay to let go when I'm with you.
Put on our jumpsuits and go jumping for no reason
Hop the side walk cracks for lack of information

I can't listen to the tapes anymore
I can't put togther 1 and 3 and make four
I can't spin a 720 on the merry go round
I can't think straight like after falling down

All those life lessons erased
I've lost all sleep
Making all the pictures in the wall makes sense to me now

Yearbooks spread out, stapled to my wall
Our sneaker prints on the ceiling
I've got the past the present and the future as my decor
No other kinds of faces than the one's been seeing

Nostalgic to the point of pills, it seems as if I've lost my will.
Nothing seems to make sense, and my memory banks have gotten dense.

I've got,
Nothing,

Nothing to rely on.

Bowl cuts, quick remarks

Photos burned after getting a fast high.

Fuzzy Mittens, Frost Bitten

Everything that we had washed away in the tide.


But we don't have to grow up.

Clouds with silver linings make heavy clouds
Then how could watch for shapes when we go out?

If we go out?

Where's the stuff, that we grew up on?
TV shows and lunch specials chucked on?

But you got no reply

The Halloween costumes we laughed at
Are still sitting in my closet.

The Christmas presents we wanted so much
Are still here waiting to be junked.

Dirt in the wheels and everything is now so unreal.
I've got nothing without you, my best friend.

Let's go play outside for real

Aberrant

A little refresher.
A little nostalgia.

She was the kind of girl that you'd write songs about. The kind that when you heard her name, your heart fluttered, and when you heard her say your name, it damn well might have stopped. When you walked with her, you had the tendency to talk faster. Partly because you were nervous, but partly because you wanted to keep up with her. The kind of girl that had look in her eyes that said she knew exactly what was going on. That if she decided to turn up a one way dead end street, you would have to be right by her. When she laid her head on your shoulder, you were careful not to wake her up. You kept her thoughts in mind before your own. Your life didn't revolve around her. Your life was her. Every single goddamn night you saw her face in the patterns in the wall. Every single morning you fucking smiled because she was right around the bend. Careful not to stare, you'd look at her and say to yourself, "What did I get myself into?". You grinned.
Now what do you do? You're feeling gone. Instead of trying to patch a broken tire, why not just let it deflate slowly and stop trying to defy what was coming. Maybe you should relax and it's just a moment of anxiety and frustration. Frustration over what? You tell yourself that it'll be alright in the end. You're friends after all. You made the choice of underpursuing an actual relationship. You were the one that said it would be better this way.
This is where you run through the situations in your made up world.

Maybe she wanted more and gave up on you after you "let go".
Maybe you're over analyzing, as usual.
Maybe she's just bored.
Maybe you wish that you knew what everyone was thinking.

A Cullen in disguise would come in handy now, you think to yourself. Are you trying to hard to fit in? Are you asking yourself too many questions?

Are you alone?
Are you lonely?

Are you waiting for someone?
Or is someone waiting for you?

fxfffgtegtegegegegegxdrx21re1e2frr23C5fwervrexa5t / (Silk)

dream lover so i don't have to dream aloneeeeeeee

wefxwgdsfgwdewgbf

dream lover until then....
ziwqswz won'tjh5j5j5h5thhing to do..d.t.
6t6666till 21huy

yeah yef46h
WTI6Y3E

please don't make me dream alone....


eew2wwwwq

better off
say anything anything your heart desires1

i gotta get away 1f1rom1 1h1er1ee1.1.1
1
1say1 1an1yt1h1ing1 y1ou1r 1111h1ea1r1t 1desires

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111112222222222222222222222

22222222222222222222222222222222222222233333333fnfdy5htgvfuhygtfredxws3333333333333333344444444444444444444444444r6
666666666fg6
jjgsrfewdsbvhvt
rex

i cannot hlpe but find you're runnig around my mind
ignoring everytime i pass
let's make thsi thing lasttttt

afsoiafoiaefoiajefoiwajeoifjwoijefiojeifj

----------

It's these moments that kill me inside. The ones that like you know it should work out. In fact you have it planned out in your head, and you know what you're gonna do and what's gonna happen. The ones where it would be a crime not to go your way. Of course, they don't work out, nothing can be planned out, and you never do what you say you're gonna do. It's why people are so bent on fortune cookies and Ouija boards. I don't know what I was doing in the first place though, so maybe it treats me right. I waited too long. I procrastinated. As usual. I won't get anywhere this way. It's better to get shot down than to fade away. Well, in someways. So now what am I doing? I'm wearing scents I had in ninth grade. Now all I can think about are old movies and puppies. I can't seem to find anything remotely entertaining anymore. That nervous feeling in my gut? A mixture of backstage jitters and anger at myself. I'm too busy looking for scapegoats and insulting other people. I'm such a dick. The real problem is with me. No one else really did anything, they just went on with their lives and I congratulate him. I don't say it's done. No, I'm the one that has to fucking point out everything and wait. It's when the chase ends that I have nothing to do. Now, love is a strong word. I say it anyway. There were times when I said to myself that, "Yeah I think I do love her." To quote an old friend, "It's lust not love." Not really an elaborate, historic, strong quote, but it's true and it gets the job done. It's what I think when our eyes connect because I'm too afraid to be the sucker who fell for more. It's alright though, there's other people, other fish, as they say. There's other things to do, people to see. Other...opportunities? I'm so alone because I pushed everyone else out of the way. Now, I kinda want to be alone. I want to get my thoughts together and set myself straight for once. I don't want to tell myself the same goddamn lives every time. I want to stop hating people when it's me. I want to stop harassing my soul with all these interests. I haven't tried or looked, but there's no drug in the world that could possibly help with anything here. No secondhand relief. More than once I've put my hand to my head and pulled the trigger. It just hurts that's all. It's not you, it's me. It's my thoughts and my jealousy that put me over the edge. I'm sad now.

Shredded (Scorn)

Part of me wants to stay up and slowly die.
The other wants to go to sleep and over analyze the details.

Listen, where'd I go?
Where did I go wrong?
Where did I go wrong recently?
Where did I go wrong recently and why?
Where did I go wrong recently and why am I doing this?

I'm yelling into your ears and drowning your remaining years.
No longer can I watch TV and wonder if you and me could end up like that.

It's too far down the line now.
It's way past any crossroads.

I picked my path and if I try to cut through the woods separating the two, things will only get worse.

I don't want to say I'm sorry.
What does sorry mean anymore?
I overused it and now I don't know what to say anymore.

Where is this going? Please please please don't toss me aside.
I'd only be doing it to myself, though you don't seem that interested.

----------

He listened closely to the words in the wall. The syllables echoed but didn't reply. There was no chance of figuring out what the definition of those sentences were. When the walls cave in, who will be there to keep him up? When the floorboards give out, where will he be? Now that the other days are gone and the curtains are picked up, where's the drama? Where's that thrill and excitement? Let's say he did succeed. Where does he go from here? These were the moments that encouraged a teenager's scapegoat. The parents, the pills, the sex. Shadows poured over his body and he swallowed every depressing piece. Every ounce of sorrow caressed his body. His pillow became salty and his arms numb from coldness and pressure. Every day's goal made him feel worse in the end. Is this procrastinating or thoughtful thinking? Wait. Just keep waiting. The moment will either pop up right in stride to his feelings or leave him standing on his own. Little movements, little thoughts, little emotions dissolved his frustration and he felt special. But everyone was special. If everyone's special then no one is. Does that put him back at square one or give him a dilemma with the weight of relationship hanging in the balance?

Desperation

Devastated and then resurrected.
A pitiful cycle rides him over and over again.
You seem so uninterested, but it's all he has to go on.
Shuffle your schedule, but repeat your playlist, when will he realize what's going on?
Relying on others for cooperation and confessions.
Crying on the shoulders of men who laugh at his ignorance.
The veins of his thoughts run with you and you're always in the recess of his mind.
Hold your breath and make a wish.
Don't ruin your innocence.
Morse code for the deaf lets him breathe easier.
Blind replies keep him smiling.

Do your nights grow dull?
He doesn't scream, he doesn't yell, but he wishes he could.

If love is blind, he tripped over his walking stick and knocked him into you.
What do you think?

It's not there, but it's close enough.

Delay

Delay

Lap

Delay

Stop.

It's close enough. For him. For me.

References

It's killing me to the point where I can't think straight.
I'm tiring of random things.
I can't sleep in the same direction.

I stopped writing for you a long time ago.
I started writing for myself.
Now I write for you guys.
I know it makes you happy, in some squishy way.
I'm not sure why.

My partner in crime helps me and replies to my letters.
My list of rays keeps me upbeat to the point where I freak out the people sitting beside me.
Allison never lets me fall behind.
Virginia makes me stay fresh.
As for Parkway North? It's not dead, just hibernating.

I know this blog isn't the same ol' same ol' (You have to say it twice, I don't know why).
These aren't confessions. These don't add to any story or overall novel. They barely pass the time. I can say anything I want. Who knows what character I am?

I can be anyone I want.
You can be anyone you want.

I need to stop throwing around the word love.
When I say it, you know I mean it. If it's too much, then it is.

Now that I have this junk out of the way, how about a story?

Dear Postman, don't lose this one

Dear Partner in Crime,

It's been a while since we've waited for closing time I know. I also know that, for the most part, I'll be the one waiting now. For how long, I don't know. My kickstand of a leg is getting sore now. Used to, I didn't mind. After all, it was just us, the cold and the brick wall behind us. But you don't have to wait anymore, and I'm glad. I really am. Capturing what you've always wanted, achieving your goal, it's what we all want. I'm glad you haven't changed either. You're still fun loving and all this fame hasn't gone to your head. Me, on the other hand, am losing it.

I can't think straight. It's when your mom tells you to wait a couple of minutes for the cookies to cool down and you want one, oh so bad, but you can't have one. Except I don't know when the time's up. It's pissing me off.

The way I'm left out of the master plan. The way I don't know where everything is. It's my own fault really. I didn't get the memo last time. Little did I know that there is no plan. You've let go of the future, I should too.

Maybe I'm happy doing what I'm doing. Robbing houses can be fun. Lately, though, I've been robbing my own house. I'm too busy to leave and get out there. I'm too busy listening to stories about what's going on. I'm too busy waiting for those cookies to cool down. It's okay though. You're still my partner in crime.

No one else is waiting right now.

You're still setting it up, I understand. Houses in Malibu don't exactly build themselves, I understand. Satisfaction doesn't come everyday, I understand.

I want my own house now though. I want my own sense of satisfaction. I'm tired of chasing coattails. I'm tired of waiting for the owner to close up and drawing up schemes. Blueprints. Ideas. Distractions. Decoys. I'm tired of it seeming so easy but then having it fail on me.
I am.

I'm sending myself into a spiraling confession, a shadowing depression. One that only I can climb out of. Your world is how you make it, so make it good.

I'm happy for you. I love you, man.
Be happy with your jewel. Your diamond. Your crowning moment.

Meanwhile, I'll wait for the cookies to cool down. Hopefully they'll be as sweet and delightful as I imagined them.

Remember, don't give up. I won't if you won't.

- The guy on the corner

P.S. Digging the haircut.