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
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
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?
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?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
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?
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?
Saturday, February 28, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, February 16, 2009
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?
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?
Sunday, February 15, 2009
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
