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?
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, May 25, 2009
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?
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?
Saturday, May 16, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, May 1, 2009
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.
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.
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