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.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
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.
"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.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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
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
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?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
