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LAST NIGHT I SAW MY WORLD EXPLODE.
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| Strange thoughts are a comin' |
[14 Nov 2008|09:44pm] |
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There is vomit in my head and it will go on for endless years until I finally crack the hatchet and bear my skull against some poor neighbors wall. I am mean, angry, and sober beyond my lifetime and have not been able to dream good for a nice plenty of weeks. My plan is to shack the man thought to keep me sane, and over a nice dinner of steak and potato and some whiskey to boot, plan my life with him in an ongoing trap or haze of well being in order to suffice whatever else was too ill equipped to function in this society. From then on, I will serve cocktails before noon, stop believing in church, start believing in church, smoke them by the packs (the good the bad the mad), pop pills like a noose is tied, pop more to tally more effective marks of idealistic culture, pop corn for the movies in order to decrease our mad house discontent, pop pop pop pop pop goes the weasel. pop pop pop pop pop goes my soul.
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[01 Feb 2008|05:32pm] |
"Teasing the cat"
The realization of it all
and the flower
sunken and dead from sunlight and heat
swells inside of me along with
regret and shame
severe longing for something more than
a cigarette
as those hands become warm and moist
but i never noticed
until now
sitting in my kitchen,
angry in silence and in hell
collarbones popping out
jaw clenched
I must be insane by now
in my own private
funeral
thinking of those high rose cheekbones
forming a passionate tiger
symmetrical features and
all
i probably shouldn't have
fought
at every word
teasing the cat
spitting on it's head
from seven feet
above
torture to ruin something
lovely
be careful
one day, he will jump
out of his habitat
and tear you
to shreds
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[10 Apr 2007|12:09am] |
"When night fall hits, it hurts. I can't sleep, I can't sleep without you by my side. It hurts. It really does, it hurts not being with you for every split second of the day. I love you, like I've never ever loved before.
Your dirty boyfriend,
Joe."
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| Oh, there's a girl at the top of the stairs. |
[24 Feb 2007|01:06am] |
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music |
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and oh, i want it oh i want it so bad. |
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Sometimes, alright. The air will be just so, and my heart will drift far back to a place it has been before and I can almost taste everything in full, except it is cotton candy and melts away fast. I do not want to long anymore. I want to accept bananas as good forms of sugar and you the same. Does this make sense? If there was ever an issue, it has always been human form. I will drive and each song can fill my eyes with past tense and if the bridge is between backward and forward then I will wait before crossing and maybe, this is the truth, this is the last letter I can send if I do, and the presence I had gotten from that spot in the room 23 minutes ago is not coincidental because it was your ghost turning on lamps in my heart in my throat throb throbbing beating compensating for gold and silver how many could have sold how many have sold how many girls have cried how many souls were sealed in glass jars in the basement next to leather couches or rope. I will wait before crossing because summer cannot change like fireflies cannot burn out if they are still burning and that is just it: I cannot burn out because I am still, I am still, I am still burning for you turning inside out take this lightly, I am throwing it up and pushing it off because i'm holding my breath for fourteenth chances and a spot on the dance floor maybe even doing what I do good and not swimming in redundancy but getting on just enough to hold back. Then, just like the movies, one day: "Give me your address. This time, I'm coming to you." I am sorry I wear sunglasses, sometimes it just hurts so much and you're shining so bright my head starts to explode like we both did as you became part of racks and television and rock. And tonight, I am not sorry you are finally happy, but only if you are finally happy.
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| But my fingers catch the spark at the thought of touching you. |
[20 May 2006|01:09pm] |
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mood |
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in tune |
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music |
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but only for a short time. |
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Oh god, it's harsh. The summertime won't put up with my bullshit. It's terrible to be so sad and crazy in this heat. The winter, that's a different story. The rain and wind and ice say it's okay to cry. It's okay to want to die cause you're not by my side. But when the sun is shining and smiling you feel even more guilty for not doing the same. I wish you know how much this was hurting. How every day getting out of bed is a bruise (to my ego or my heart, i don't know). I hope you realize I am the best thing to ever happen to you come mid-june because you'll never find another thinker like this. Haven't you learned that already? Nobody ever fucking learns anything. We just keep on making the same mistakes and excuses over and over and over again and wonder why everything always ends up so shitty. I can't wait for angles and airwaves. Maybe that will be the record that changes my life. Or maybe I will just keep falling in love the more you don't answer the phone. Room 21 never experienced a pair of lovers as eclectic as us. I still have fireflies on my breath.
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[02 May 2006|11:23pm] |
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mood |
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who gives a shit anymore |
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music |
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and i was just pretending i did when you thought i was happy |
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It's funny. We all think after we lose weight. After our teeth are straight. After our hair is black or blonde or we buy all the right clothes. After the people stare all the time. After boys joke and want to touch you. After sex in the upstairs bedroom. After no sex in the upstairs bedroom. After growing up. After fucking up. After all the years of learning and knowing and getting stronger. After allowing yourself to be alone. After knowing what it's like to wish and wish on candles and quit wishing by age 8. After drinking all the bacardi and knowing not to cross your fingers on the fwy anymore. After knowing after all the conversations that it won't work out. Even after all this, we're never enough. And there is never a great enough force to push the ugly and hurt and shame which has or soon will come from another person. And we just don't know what to do about it. I don't know why I thought it'd be different. This isn't tragedy. Not even close to tragic. This isn't like the 210 or africa eyes. This was just a firecracker under my tongue. A spark; a reminder. A quick singe of disappointment to remind me never to believe there is something more out there. To never believe that someone is coming to save me even if I get strong enough to not care to be saved anymore. This was just me letting somebody shove their fingers into my body and hoping for a child or a separate laundry room or maybe even a birthday dinner that I didn't have to pay for.
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[05 Mar 2006|12:54am] |
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You looked sad tonight.
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[27 Jul 2005|07:46pm] |
FRIENDS ONLY.
Late night liquor-leave-me-to-the-floor sessions make me swoon. Friends. New faces. Less enemies. Had our bodies swaying to the eleventh shot until we'd lost count long before the fifth. Life has been not only amazing but more confusing as ever but I prefer not to be "rescued." I left my heart where eyeliner and brilliant icons only exist in fairytales, or so it seems this way (for now). You're my city of angles and lack of sobriety. This is all/what/how i'm dreaming when lying awake. These are the anti-bacterial thoughts through spoonfuls of soup and liquid dreams taking center stage. Sometimes I change birthdates to get my hopes up. Sometimes I change clothes to wish you luck. Sometimes I change the past to write out your future. I've got superpowers like you wouldn't believe..
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