Hello, my bones are breaking
the room is spinning and you
know that you might as well
just rip out my tongue.
I've never been good at telling stories,
And I've never been too good at honesty.
But there's one thing that I know for sure:
I swear to you now: you'll never know me.
Love, it's waiting around
for you to take it and you
know that you might as well
just stay for a while when you're
Pushing those words through your teeth and
You're so beautiful when you annunciate those
Perfect little things that you always tell me:
I swear to you by now you're my life story.
Singing songs in rooms,
Padded to extinguish you.
But you burn right through,
But you burn right through.
I'm falling for the sound
Persisting through miles.
I swear to God it's true,
I'm living for the two...
Of us.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Not the best but it'll do.
I follow your eyes like the skies
Follow the stars as they're reflecting
Back into your eyes like a spark
Of light that seems so otherworldly
I sing to the moon as I walk in my
Shoes trying to find a place to rest
My weary head and my tired body
Right next to you, we made reservations.
Your eyes are glistening
With a salt stain on your cheek.
Darker around the eyes
I tell you "Dear, don't weep."
But you never listen to what I say.
I'm always wrong anyways,
Despite how sure I seem to always be
But your smile always shines on me.
You say,
"I love you,
For all that you are,
For all you'll ever be."
These miles aren't easy.
But the photograph couldn't
Be more clear than I see it.
You standing next to me, so
Proud of us and how far we've come.
Follow the stars as they're reflecting
Back into your eyes like a spark
Of light that seems so otherworldly
I sing to the moon as I walk in my
Shoes trying to find a place to rest
My weary head and my tired body
Right next to you, we made reservations.
Your eyes are glistening
With a salt stain on your cheek.
Darker around the eyes
I tell you "Dear, don't weep."
But you never listen to what I say.
I'm always wrong anyways,
Despite how sure I seem to always be
But your smile always shines on me.
You say,
"I love you,
For all that you are,
For all you'll ever be."
These miles aren't easy.
But the photograph couldn't
Be more clear than I see it.
You standing next to me, so
Proud of us and how far we've come.
Hardwired behavior becoming desensitized by the callousness of urban living.
I used to live and breathe country air,
With nothing in my heart but the sound
Of children running in a nearby park and
I remember being one of them.
It seems like months ago that I was there,
Rubbing my hands together intently as I
Attempted to cross those shaky bridges and
Make my way to the sandboxes beyond. But...
Now I concern myself with postmarked stamps,
Arrivals and departures in the nearby station
Where the trains always seem to meet at noon
To have their break then make their way out
Into the urban wastelands we call human civilization,
Where you walk down a street and hear millions upon
Millions of voices collectively becoming such discord
That we never know where one begins and one ends because
You see this is the meaning of a lack of harmony and
This is the very thing that disturbance of the soul represents.
It's all acquired behavior from television.
Nothing is innate, instinctual or natural anymore.
As these cities reach the ends of the earth
All I know is that we're losing the people we are.
I want to return to the fields,
To run in the sprinklers in the summer.
Just as soon as the sun hides
Itself behind the hills we find the end
To our days.
With nothing in my heart but the sound
Of children running in a nearby park and
I remember being one of them.
It seems like months ago that I was there,
Rubbing my hands together intently as I
Attempted to cross those shaky bridges and
Make my way to the sandboxes beyond. But...
Now I concern myself with postmarked stamps,
Arrivals and departures in the nearby station
Where the trains always seem to meet at noon
To have their break then make their way out
Into the urban wastelands we call human civilization,
Where you walk down a street and hear millions upon
Millions of voices collectively becoming such discord
That we never know where one begins and one ends because
You see this is the meaning of a lack of harmony and
This is the very thing that disturbance of the soul represents.
It's all acquired behavior from television.
Nothing is innate, instinctual or natural anymore.
As these cities reach the ends of the earth
All I know is that we're losing the people we are.
I want to return to the fields,
To run in the sprinklers in the summer.
Just as soon as the sun hides
Itself behind the hills we find the end
To our days.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Poems from 07/30/2009
Renewal? I just steal the catalog cards.
This feels
Kind of like a nightmare
The taste of smoke still
Haunts me but I've gone
And replaced
All of my vices with a new
Sense of things and a new
Outlook on life and you know...
It's funny how no matter what we do,
And no matter where we are,
We're the same people we've been
Every day of our lives, just a
Different manner of speaking and a
Brand new set of clothes that
We bought on sale at the mall with
Money we used to spend on
Drugs,
Booze,
Company,
Friends,
Cigarettes,
Lust,
Our own
Selfishness,
Self-pity
New shoes.
So we can walk
To a graveyard
To bury ourselves
In the end but no...
Not me.
__________________________
Pissing Inspiration.
The only thing that I hate about reading
Is that almost every time I turn a page
I get a fucking papercut. So here I am
Reading these books with thousands
And thousands of little cuts on my fingers
Some of them are still fresh. The insides
Of the pages are smeared with blood and
More blood and ink. I can never seem to
Do anything without wounding myself.
When I got tired of reading I decided to pick up a pen and write.
The first words I wrote down on a blank piece of paper ironically were:
"What the hell am I going to write about?"
So I sat there for a while and thought,
And I thought. Until finally it hit me.
I would write about the dream I had!
I had finally found myself an answer but...
Then I remembered:
I forgot to remember my dream.
"Shit!" I said aloud as I threw my pen at the wall.
It exploded and left a blueish-black mark where it hit.
I never thought I would ever be a great writer I guess.
I still don't think that I am but you know what?
Writing my own stories is better than a little voice
In my head that sounds like me telling them to me.
Do dogs think in English?
Maybe.
Probably.
I guess so.
...the fuck would I know?
__________________________
I make bad decisions... sometimes.
One day I got this crazy idea
To hurl my body into the ocean
And let the water take me to
Any place that the currents go
So I was standing on a bridge
About to jump off and I look over
Some young man was there
And he was plotting suicide
So I said:
"You know when you jump the fall won't kill you?"
I guess he was willing to take his chances.
I realize that the difference between this situation was me being an optimist.
Now I'm typically the type of person to assume the glass is half empty. In which case,
I go to the faucet and pour myself a full, delicious glass of pure tap water. Of course.
This young man didn't know what he was getting himself into. He would rather sit there
And bitch and moan about how his glass was never full and there was no way it ever
Would be. But he was just too damn lazy to get up and walk to the sink and turn a knob.
So I pushed the motherfucker.
And then I got down and realized:
"I could have fucking killed myself."
This feels
Kind of like a nightmare
The taste of smoke still
Haunts me but I've gone
And replaced
All of my vices with a new
Sense of things and a new
Outlook on life and you know...
It's funny how no matter what we do,
And no matter where we are,
We're the same people we've been
Every day of our lives, just a
Different manner of speaking and a
Brand new set of clothes that
We bought on sale at the mall with
Money we used to spend on
Drugs,
Booze,
Company,
Friends,
Cigarettes,
Lust,
Our own
Selfishness,
Self-pity
New shoes.
So we can walk
To a graveyard
To bury ourselves
In the end but no...
Not me.
__________________________
Pissing Inspiration.
The only thing that I hate about reading
Is that almost every time I turn a page
I get a fucking papercut. So here I am
Reading these books with thousands
And thousands of little cuts on my fingers
Some of them are still fresh. The insides
Of the pages are smeared with blood and
More blood and ink. I can never seem to
Do anything without wounding myself.
When I got tired of reading I decided to pick up a pen and write.
The first words I wrote down on a blank piece of paper ironically were:
"What the hell am I going to write about?"
So I sat there for a while and thought,
And I thought. Until finally it hit me.
I would write about the dream I had!
I had finally found myself an answer but...
Then I remembered:
I forgot to remember my dream.
"Shit!" I said aloud as I threw my pen at the wall.
It exploded and left a blueish-black mark where it hit.
I never thought I would ever be a great writer I guess.
I still don't think that I am but you know what?
Writing my own stories is better than a little voice
In my head that sounds like me telling them to me.
Do dogs think in English?
Maybe.
Probably.
I guess so.
...the fuck would I know?
__________________________
I make bad decisions... sometimes.
One day I got this crazy idea
To hurl my body into the ocean
And let the water take me to
Any place that the currents go
So I was standing on a bridge
About to jump off and I look over
Some young man was there
And he was plotting suicide
So I said:
"You know when you jump the fall won't kill you?"
I guess he was willing to take his chances.
I realize that the difference between this situation was me being an optimist.
Now I'm typically the type of person to assume the glass is half empty. In which case,
I go to the faucet and pour myself a full, delicious glass of pure tap water. Of course.
This young man didn't know what he was getting himself into. He would rather sit there
And bitch and moan about how his glass was never full and there was no way it ever
Would be. But he was just too damn lazy to get up and walk to the sink and turn a knob.
So I pushed the motherfucker.
And then I got down and realized:
"I could have fucking killed myself."
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