The Theory of Romantics...

2007-11-09T03:26:00.000-05:00

-will somebody please turn off the faucet?
the windows won't shut; i think that i am drowning.
no ground to stand. no room to breathe. no air. no air. no air.
take the change from my pockets, turn and walk away. away. away. away.!
-call this modern. call this a cold world. i don't care what it is you name it.
i will still bleed. i will still leave. perforated lines tracing my wandering.
this is no joke. this is no toast. there's no salutable excuse for this drinking.
for i belive it is agreed, if it hurts, that's just one more reason to keep on faking.
come. and follow me. come. and follow me.
-DO NOT CROSS do not break this red tape.
still you must enter. but be not brave.
-Be Afraid of the rooms you must enter.
..all the things you could have done.
Be Angry with every second that you've spent aging.
it all just leads to more time wasted.
-Remember the days we spent covered in acid,
fighting to prove ourselves to the entire family?
then piece by piece, the dirt was lifted
to reveal two dried out corpses, that were not themselves.
-just the remians of a dream,
sleeping deep inside forests
hidden by thousands of rows of trees
populated by us, the selfless, baptised and innocent...
..living your dreams always ends too quickly.

2007-05-10T12:15:00.000-04:00

2 months ago:

stuck inside instability,
marching a broken path.
accept there's no way out
and it won't help to ask.
you've got to learn this on your own
but when you finally come to comprehend,
please understand,
the rules of the game grow more complicated.
and there's no one to write them down.

break down the heartache.
build your own tragedy.

so do the numbers, build yourself a home.
find a wife and leave her all alone.
she'll make you dinner and wash your filthy clothes.
and drown her sister with sobs on the telephone.
trap her with lost looks and dresses.
let her build herself these broken ledges
to stand upon all afternoon
neglect sinched tight like a noose.
all it takes is one slight of foot.
will she jump or will you push?
regardless, a real man would follow.

break down the heartache.
build your own tragedy.

we live life like jealousy.

2007-01-30T12:01:00.000-05:00

how did you ever come to expect this
all to turn out so swell?
Oh, did you ever develop a conscience?
or just another point to sell?
(yeah, we grew up. ..at such an early age.)

It's from the pits inside this hard sale
that I know you'll watch.
And here I come, crash and flail.
to you, just another cost.
as you walk away, laugh it off;
I guess it's time to start my will.
now you've flooded the whole damned market.
and now everything is going to hell.
(yeah, we grew up at such an early age, at such repulsive rates!)

Well now, here it has started snowing;
the flakes, they take their epic drop.
And as I run to catch them upon my tongue,
all dignity is lost.
(to the flames of our youth, who here soon,
be squelched and grow into something so awful!)

But never before had I felt so pure;
so indiscrete, so young.
In complete deviance; a reality's
given, oh so oblivious to god!
(she cried, "you can never be too oblivious! now just go ahead
and forget that path down which you have come.")

And these days, destroying something so infinite
is defined as the past-time of some age
when we all stood so naive and arrogant,
trusting life held no thing we could not achieve.
(we were all so pure. so, so... so strong.)
["the past! but what has passed cannot be taken back!"]

But lately, we've been keeping quite busy,
just trying to destroy all the pressure
as it's caving-in on all four sides
behind the corpses of these innocent lives.
(lost in the molds, all choked on these lies.
all choked by these lies, with no violence spared.)

"And at first I thought we were like brothers,
but by the end he had taught me, we all have our own struggle."

And we leave their bodies unburied,
stripped and beaten for each eye to see.
For here, innocence gains but broken jaws
under the weeping gaze of maturity.

(we live life like jealousy...)

Epic

2006-12-20T09:03:00.000-05:00

the U.K. wakes up and stretches; its feathers unfurl.
calls immediate attention to the tips of its coils.
they explode and they crawl into so many pools.
the chromosones spread, and leak across the whole world.
("she will die with her dues, to this world, 'an unjust.'")

a ghost pirouettes, dives and it digs,
through all of these servile connections,
just so helpless..
his flawless conscience is lost in search of the 'golden id.'
an accordian design, seemingly by
a catalyst through which he still recalls...
a dream we both once had,
to shatter it all
(until there were only roses).

all lust, all hope, all self-respect.
she wants to make real, those gods i rejected. (in the form of old dreams...)
and i'm sad now to be upon these broken knees (...so disrespected.)
where every nerve-ending will refuse to scream
of some blissful end in eternity.
and the silence stood too bold to scream.
within a dismantled insanity,
the silence stands too bold to scream,
"does not this black-hole grant me any mercy?"

the sunrise showed face and we awoke
inside some late-morning sunday.
by now, i've picked them up, tried them on,
the garments of this martyred evening.
i was looking deeply in the mirror.
but it was done by sun's setting.
of course, i was first to blink
and it's time now that i accept it.

you disappear passed door inside door
(or at least some figment within my head).

we ignore the truth. commence pursuit,
i'm stumbling somewhere far behind.
you escape all loss, evading the law.
i'm here just in time to rewind,
the plotting of, my most epic fall,
into the black; towards the sweetest bed.
to somewhere unattached where misery cannot call.
but it's all belonging to some blissful end.

in a room she disguised and left forgotten in the hall,
these planes disintegrate, frame by frame, lost.
and this game always seems to get in the way
of something more meaningless.
but today, it all dissolves.

we are, dying roses become a funeral's confetti.

The Playground 9/27/2005

2005-11-07T02:59:00.000-05:00

We crawled along rusted piping and caved-in roofs. just making excuses to kill time. to stay here. where we thought we belonged. After climbing a broken ladder, we rested on the highest point we could find. there were rays of light, shooting out from just beyond the horizon, scraping the downtown buildings. I visualized a little toy town from our view. It looked so fake. so... breakable. But as the light disappeared, the buildings faded into the landscape in a way that made them seem already broken. burnt and snapped close to the roots. as though there was once something much bigger there and they were just the remnants of what was.
We talked for a long time. in between the lengthy comfortable silences, secrets were shared and points made that seemed to prove the existence of something higher. but still, we were alone on this rooftop. and the only thing keeping us warm was this solitude. We both stared off into the distance as streetlights shot out in every direction. straight lines for what could've been miles. but what did we know? They could just be painted up on some wall ten feet in front of our faces. We didn't notice and we wouldn’t have cared anyway. I didn't care. I was too enveloped in my thoughts. what happens from here? is there anything left to prove?
There was nothing left to fight but a faint resistance. a resistance empowered by a few thousand miles, lined with trees and mountaintops that we couldn't see over from our perch here. But that was of no consequence right now. we were right here. next to each other. staring at the wall with streetlights painted on it.
But now I’ve figured out that this wall was our future. Those buildings too.

She is that wall and we are those buildings. simply shards. sitting. waiting. for someone to come along and sweep us up or to stomp us down and smooth us out once the lights have gone out. Since this revelation, I haven’t returned to our perch. The roof remains abandoned as it always should have been.

2005-10-10T04:21:00.000-04:00

running draft for opening of "Insomniac: A Fictional Method."

she's walking up with her light in my face. it's bright and burning my eyes, but i know better than to squint. method-acting.

(insert: first showcase- young. unshaven. unkempt hair. black rain-coat. a hat trying to cover his eyes. and a dirty shirt that he's probably been wearing for days. smoke bellowing out of his hand. trash brings trash brings filth and decay. i operate like a gallon of bleach. my duty is to clean.
to protect and serve.)
(as i process: she misunderstands us already. has she not seen the new glamorous? prompter fill her in over the television monitor.)
i wasn't just a passenger. but she didn't seem to care.
1: so why are you acting so nervous?
2: "because i'm afraid of having your gun pointed in my face."
1: and where are you going?
2: "just trying to get back to my place."
1: well it seems you're a little bit lost.
2: "not really. you were just in our way."

(insert: uneasy deliberate pause. this is when the light intensifies. but you have to keep your eyes wide open. but your pupils will tell her if this goes on too long. and the cigarette smoke is burning something awful. the whites are growing into reds. but you just keep the burning filter stuck neatly between your fingers. she points that light into your crotch. onto the floor. there's nothing. at your bag. a pause is inserted into the pause. . . .)
she walks away. with the basic information that leads to identity-theft. or tracing. and here's a chance to breathe. but i didn't take it. i refused to take it. the rush of blood from my head back out to the rest of my body was a euphoria i haven't felt in a long time. i can't even remember if this is real.
protector of the people. giving them heart-attacks so they don't have to deal with the remainder of their time here.

(insert real-time thought process: this is never a good time to snap-back. but really, she was in our way. but thats not of importance. she has a gun. i'm terrified of guns. i could run. there's the woods. but she knows my name. she knows me. she might shoot me. should could shoot me in the back. mental. control. just take a breathe, you're good. just don't let her get inside of you. don't let her fucking shoot you.)
she comes back with the light leading the way. it looks at me then moves to the driver.
1:"... this car matches the car that was used in a robbery tonight. an old buick... blue... some dents over here... on the driver's side."

(insert: push off the heart-attack. i haven't slept in days and i'm tired. i didn't rob a bank. don't shoot me and fucking let us go. you exist to p-r-o-t-e-c-t me. don't shoot me. what the fuck is going on? did i rob a bank last night? no. so don't fucking shoot me.)
an uneasiness creeps through the car amongst the clearings of throats, half-hearted chuckles, and uncomfortable squirmings, because, to be honest, no one is this car robbed a bank. the lights sprays out over my face.

fuck. i squinted. open your eyes. keep them wide. but not too wide. i try to see her face, but there's no real reason to even bother. what the fuck? we didn't rob a bank. i doubt there was a robbery at all. we'r-- (cut!).
i almost forgot she was standing there. but the white of the light disappeared and she spoke:
"have a safe night," she's spits out with tinges of uncertainty and disappointment as she walks back to her car.
discourtesy as subtle as can be. she didn't want us to have a good night. just a safe one. but my safe has a different meaning than hers. she'll never begin to understand the meaning of safe to me.

(insert choir to self: you will never understand what safe is. and you will never understand the filth. -they make it a maze to keep it that way.- so. just. let. go.)

To Be An Emperor

2005-06-28T12:59:00.000-04:00

there's a door in this wall in the corner of your hall.
inside i'll find answers to questions never asked.
inside finds cryptic cancer that heals our quaking breath.
but still. the night. it heaves. a laugh to deem it jest.

yeah. we're all so inclusive; welcome to our dream.
believe you're in a nightmare. just don't get sucked up by the scene.
close your eyes quickly, deary, and feel the amphetamine.
it spawns creativity as it burns through our veins.

and egos grow exponentially. sucking embers from the flame.
we're chic. heroin. broken bodies really do grant us top hand
in this societal game.

but a few sharpened phrases,
sent forth through shallow hazes,
grab us by the ankles
and drag us down to their level,
speaking shattered faiths.

rape! rape! this is blood-shot rape!

now words leave us breaking. cracking. standing empty.

so non-directionally angry.

with nothing but a lonely realization:

we're all just the same.

(this is what happens when we, so arrogantly, lust for crowns of fame.)

2005-05-11T23:19:00.000-04:00

false blonde.
did you get my memo?
memo. memo.
memorialistc thoughts.
understanding logic.
quasi famous in an underworld.
bite marks.
falsehood apparations.
broken teeth. shards of wood.
a sinking ship.
oh, the water's freezing.
mommy, mommy, save me
from the sharks.

wake. and fall.
spend the day lying
unconscious in a bathroom stall.
visuals crowd the air.
unable to breathe,
you sink deeper and deeper into sleep.

2005-05-09T14:38:00.000-04:00

i sleep through the mornings
the afternoons just seem boring
the evenings, i drink away.

cos the media's still whoring
qualities i'm adoring
in a girl that walks my way.

and everyone seems angry
in no apparent direction,
perhaps just at themselves

for New Year's resolutions
they found it a solution
to just let themselves forget.

and my head is still aching
from those pills i was taking
to let MY brain forget.

>to be continued...<

2005-02-21T12:04:00.000-05:00

Circuit Bent Decades

circulatory pause in time.
the remnants of a cardiac arrest.
did it dive deep inside of you?
or is this impatience just a test?

should i take the cue?
should i take the cue?

life's melting like a hemmorhage of needles,
spewed up and all across.
it's like a fetal matress was separated
pulled apart and cropped at the seam.
almost 2 decades too late.

should i take the cue?
should i take the cue?

well i'll roll up my tongue and leave.
wear your insults like woolen gloves.
i can take my stand to another town.
and do as the devil takes what the homeless leave.

i've taken the cue.
i've taken the cue.

2004-12-20T23:37:00.000-05:00

notes

you know those notes
you write and never send?
well this is one of them.
no, we never signed
any dotted lines
committing to a life
of appointments,
and play dates,
anniversaries,
and unpaid bills.
but I still pretended
that we did and
filled my head
with dreams of a beautiful future.

well now my conscience
sleeps in broken heaps
of shattered pieces
from falling down the stairs
of an unkempt mind
and a social scene
that embraces the theme
that no one really cares.

the situation eggs me on
to take the step
to take the fall
to leave this house
just run away now
and find someplace new that I can call
my home, or just anything
that doesn't have to constantly
remind me of all these burning things
or the way that depression stings.

so maybe all of this
was all my fault.
you never had a say
cos I never let you talk.
but even when you did,
you made sure that it
always remained meaningless
drivel about our future
or chic lines about the passed.
no. the words that crossed your lips
slid across your cheek and
dribbled down your chin
but still held no significance.

so now I’m in this room
with the lights turned off.
drinking hard liquor
shot by shot. shot by shot.
there's people in the corner
pointing and laughing at me.
no features to define a face.
but their shirts are labeled with your name.

three different colors.
greens and reds and greens.
three different shades of black.
back and forth and back again.
heads hang as chests turn red.
you kissed my broken lips again.
I clear the way, learn again to pretend
that this love is dead, and we're still just friends.
jeal-ous-y.
that's what it is.

2004-12-20T23:33:00.000-05:00

call an ambulance!

gone with the trees.
hiding in the breeze.
my head is aching
and my lunch has come up again.

would someone please turn out the lights?
they'e worming their way into my brain.
solid.
metal.
beams.
oh, no! i hear it coming again.

call an ambulance.
i can't seem to find my head.
bring out the sewing kit.
i'm just as broken as you wished.

white-nosed, tripping down the stairs.
full-speed, casting shooting glares.
naked.
pale.
skin.
my nose bleeds everytime you look at me.

2004-12-20T23:31:00.000-05:00

i only miss you when i'm horny.
i only need you when i'm lonely.
well, now doesn't that make two of us?
forgive me if i ever said you were worth a fuck.

compassion
sleeps this drunken night away.
titilation
works its way from your throat to your chest.
attention
takes its spotlight off your pretty face.
deliverance
huh uh-uh, death is what you crave, baby.

you can keep the rotten fruits
that you pick.
if they can be fooled
off the branch with your tricks.
three years of perfecting, lonely.

Methadone

2004-10-05T18:25:00.000-04:00

would you get out' the way if you saw
headlights coming your way through the fog?
it's a radio's hit song crushing you in monotone.
i tried talking to you, but you're not in this room
floating through a mind doused in methadone.
but that's better than where you came from,
you dribbled past the hit, and serenity's left you falling down.

the dreams, they came
at full speed, to take
(your head out of this nightmare)
where you belong.

well the child in you fades out in time.
fever kicks in, begging for the syringe.
black seeps into your veins until all the color's run dry.
the one's you love abandoned you. you lay forgotten.
back lace entwines your feet. have you forgotten them?
just this week, you've got thirteen wakes to attend.
and the purpose of your life is lost; the planes of your thought begin to bend.

if you fall into a fit of commotion...

2004-09-14T23:06:00.000-04:00

at the snap of a rifle, at the click of a finger,
the heart begins bleeding; these hallways grow darker.
the doors all seem farther;
these tiles are looking warped and blurred.

can we start from the top, is there some line that i forgot?
written out so perfectly, on a cue card someone lost.

is it possible to forget an affection,
let it fall to the floor and shatter?
in a fit of commotion, to lie drunk and without emotion,
against the bathroom door.
and it's so hard to breathe in here,
but the air's still getting thinner.
i hope you feel the pang of failure
when you come out of this the winner.

and i know you think i'm in no position
to feel the things i'm feeling
or to say the things i'm saying,
but that's just a matter of opinion,
and something that you'd expect
to be coming from the opposition.
it's just that lately, i've been trying
to keep myself from lying
or do any of those things
that, in the end, left you hurting.

well, sometimes these plans make changes
and they create such messy situations.
held up by tiny words and phrases;
such things cannot be taken back.
but i still remember all those days and
nights we spent in her basement,
and the love that we created
so i agree that i'm to blame here,
and i wish that i could erase it.

but maybe it's for the best.

2004-09-08T19:21:00.000-04:00

Jealousy touches her skin. the shutter drops. the world goes black. she feels a burning sensation.
and when the lights come back on, her flesh is charred; bleeding ash covering her arms!
well now SHE'S hallow & her SHELL echoes when you HEAR her baby's whines.
she's deveLOPED her own weaTHER, her OWN ozone & it RAINS every time...

(she opens her eyes)

She wheezes and complains how today was her birthday
nobody called; nobody came over
her friends are all OUT drinking, they must HAVE forgotten
toDAY was her birthday.

Well, she SITS in the dark apartment. paper-cut HANDS, huddled in the closet.
hasn't eaTEN any of that cake. her body's losING it's cheerleading shape.
and her SHELL still echoes when she HEARS the telephone.
but it's JUST the carcass of her baby swingING. it's an honest mistake.

(she joins her baby's swing)

She wheezes and complains yesterday nobody celebrated.
nobody cared; nobody called; nobody came over.
her friends were all out drinking. they must have forgotten that....
today was her birthday.

2004-08-21T13:00:00.000-04:00

(you let the mirrors get in your way)

i buried my intentions
a long, long time ago.
not once have they tried to creep back up on me.
at least that i know.
there's words to mend these broken situations,
body language that can cure the whole thing.
as i lay there on the cold steel of the table
you just sit by and watch
you let the mirrors get in your way.

and i wonder:
when the oxygen clears,
will you have any room to breathe?
the colors blend into new shades
as you come to your knees.
you stay there for one reason.
either way it's my
will that you please.

there's the slide of a chain.
well there goes depression,
out the window and tied to my ankle.
well, i know what's happening to me.
but where does fate take you?

-|media|||whore|-

2004-08-01T04:39:00.000-04:00

they said, "Please get some medication."
and i did.
now all my thoughts have turned gray.
( and no shaded values hold true. )
oh, what lovely days.

no, love hasn't turned to hate, the drugs don't do that.
the bouncing ball hasn't taken effect.
i hate those butterflies. who gave them the right
to be free of all these emotions?
don't feed me your bullshit about god and his goodness.
no love, just anger... i wish i killed everyone.
sure i know people care, and i know that I care too.
somewhere in the back of my head, i still feel for you.
i lost all diversity of personality in this single shade of gray.
( the nether-regions of my mind. )
is it possible; is it not illogical to assume i'm dead?
- nothing here will remain unbroken -
in all his depth, Pinocchio believed he loved her;
but when he said it, his nose only grew longer

Manufacture all your plush products, in those fine leathers, cloths, silk... jewels, the purest metals.
Then produce your own knock-offs for the lower class.
prices flail. they fall. build yourself a fucking empire.
no i'm not mad at you. this isn't about you. and if you're confused, then this definitely isn't about you. this is about the insanity i can feel creeping up and down my spine when i'm paused in one place for anything more than a few seconds. This is about all those questions i've always asked myself but never vocalized; those fucked-up issues that no one wants to deal with, so they keep quiet until they forget. The little things kill. anything. everything. i confront anything, hell, even if i barely notice it, it leaves this mark on my head. well now all those little marks just built up into one huge pile of shit that's making a device out of itself. and i know i can't be the only one like this. it HAS to have other people by the throats. i know for a fact that i can't genetically turn insane until i'm at least 19. if i make it to 26 alive, then there might just be a god. but, what the fuck.
what the hell is wrong with me?
i'm a little off in the head, so they throw me around between drugs, and it gets worse. i try my own experimentation, and it works a bit, but addictions and other people's opinions get in the way far too much. i get thrown around more and more with the drugs, and it gets worse and worse. i take myself off, in a very responsible way, and it gets better for 2 or 3 days, then it goes to hell. i get back on them, it gets worse. i stay on them, it gets even more fucked up. now, i have no idea what to do. it's not like a have a psychiatrist i can trust. it's not like there's a trusting family member to confide in. i can't talk to any of my friends about all this bullshit because i'd have to hold off for fear of hurting and/or destroying them and/or myself.
FORGET ME NOTS, PLACED IN A BOX,
LOOKING LIKE A COFFIN.
what did you expect, but a wave of regret;
shedding tears from my spinal chord?
i smile when i'm happy and i frown when i am sad,
but i no longer drink just when i am bored.

a seed. a tree. a sheet. a poem.
a dream. a riff. a beat. a song.
a simple process. a simple thought.
simple deaths. of a simple cross.
but it's all complicated by moving jaws.
spreading truths they know are false.

Sunday's dry.
On fridays, we crucify.
Hear the shots. knees buckle, necks drop.
and he shouts... and he shouts,
"Why do blood stains turn the air to steam,
and rust the concrete that lines this street?"
can't escape it. you can't escape it now.
"everything you ever love will reject you or die.
everything you ever create will be thrown away.
everything you're proud of will end up as trash."
"I would do the Elgin Marbles with a sledgehammer and wipe my ass with the Mona Lisa."
"If you're male, and you're Christian and living in America, your father is your model for God."
Do You Believe That I Would Burn For You?
[well, stop it.]
{she'd take those gifts and kisses although just stringing him around..}

Into that quasi dark, we drove, not quite sure of where to go.
"Your life would be easier if the background was black."

Loose Narratives

2004-08-01T04:37:00.000-04:00

April 21 2004
They chase me through my head. Which one of us is the real freedom fighter? Secondly, what do they have against freedom?
I sat on a piano bench in a fairly dark room. Fairly dark: no lights on, but two open doors with opposite light sources casting their image onto the floor. I’m staying quiet, but my thoughts are echoing off the walls, and no matter what I do, they won’t stop. I know they can hear me, so every movement I make is rushed and spastic, for fear that I’ll be caught a millisecond later, off guard. He enters. My heart gives a shriek, temporarily paralyzing the muscles in my extremities. But it’s only him. Now we whisper together, and make our plans to escape this hell.

April 22 2004
She picks me up at a location that, for some odd reason, I can only describe as obtuse. There’s no doubt on this car-ride, that an awkward silence is prevailing over the both of us. It’s not just the silence, it’s the air; it feels like one-hundred pounds per square inch, as it creeps along my forearm, crushing every single hair that had the will to stand up against the cold. I can’t help but look over at her driving and picture a clown’s over-exaggerated face. I can’t exactly pinpoint the emotion which it portrays, but I don’t like it. It’s fitting of a… an after-funeral party. It does not however suit our situation. Subconsciously, my hand has made its way across the cup holders and CD player, and my fingertips just barely make contact as my voice cracks into, “you know… I’ve really missed you.” Her clown face falls apart into emotion. Something raw. Something real.
“yeah?” she asks. “…you stupid backstabbing mother-fucker,” the look in her eyes says to me. But I know everything is going to be okay. Our hands clasped finger by finger, making a unified superfist; a love-fist. We’re capable of anything together.

April 25 2004
Into the quasi dark we drove, not quite sure of where to go. I see buildings pass by like reels of film from the 30s on either side of us. I’m not sure if they’re houses or shops, warehouses or skyscrapers, just something I feel like I should be staring at in awe. Oh, the movement of it all. The pot is hovering over me in a haze thicker than purple. Perplexed as I am even by the miniscule task of bending my finger back and forth, if I were placed on the edge of one of those skyscrapers (or are they razors?), I could probably be convinced that the clouds were indeed a bed.
Snap, come off that buzz. We’re pulling into the Reservoir Park, though it’s obviously closed.
“What are we-“
“We’re going camping,” she says at me like the whole broken-record deal with a huge grin on her face. Is it real? My only reply to this is to break out giggling like a six year-old. I begin to wonder if we’re going to have sex tonight. As I’m drifting back into my coffin with this thought and a box of mental tissues, I see it.
“Holy shit!” I shout, cueing her in just in time to swerve, hit the breaks, cry out, and swerve, in no particular order. The deer side steps, looking just as inebriated and glossy-eyed as us in those headlights. We miss him and slide sideways down a small hill until we halt by the power of a bush or two. At a complete stop, I realize how well this all worked out. Risking her own life, she did not wear a seat belt, and made this tiny little speck of time that much better for me. She was flung into my lap, and her dress was somehow torn just perfectly to hide her breasts, but still show an image of beauty. Tilting my head sideways, I ask, “are you alright?”
“Yeah… …yeah, just a little shaken up. You okay?”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve felt better all night,” I reply with a sheepish grin I hope she notices and adores. She takes all this in with a sly smile of her own. A smile beautiful enough to kiss. As I reach out, she pulls away at the last second, leaving her taste hot on the air for me.
“No. This can’t happen now.”

April 26 2004
Tonight, we separated to carry out certain tasks that we each simply had to do. While in the learning vestibule, I subdue my entire conscience in the task at hand; denying that face entrance through my eyes. Even if there were something worthwhile going on up here, I still wouldn’t let people in, it’s the principle that’s of significance.
Just like high school… it’s just the principal who matters. Nothing and/or no one else.
But then, it hits me. I’ve seen that innocent face before. Somewhere, anywhere. Just tell me I’ve seen her outside of this moment. As I continue thinking, still subconsciously trapped by the rusty pad lock on the cracked wooden door of my mind, I unwillingly (error?) move myself to the seat next to hers. This is no easy task, being that her body is exactly across the entire room from mine. I fight the desire to kill the space between us. And for a moment, I think her blood lets that desire win. It was such a brief moment though, that it did not register on the sensors of any living creature; just me. I’ve seen her before, I’ve held her close, even unlocked that rusty lock to tease her.
Thank god I held my walls down, she looks like shit. Once skinny and small breasted, her flesh has outgrown its chin and jawbone, and hangs tightly off the cheeks. Her chest has swollen to the point where the skin must be so tight around her breasts, that she might explode. Due to her wretched posture, I cannot tell if this blossoming was a good or bad thing. She’s wearing make-up to fit in where she doesn’t belong, and we both know it.
I look down and her legs, the one thing that’s turned beautiful with the stuffing, are calling out to me from the curves inside her tight, torn jeans. I can tell she wants me. Fortunately, the flames kicked up inside of these four walls, giving me the power of resistance. “I’ve got something just like you at home, and it’s in far better condition,” the flames begs me to whisper in her ear as I squeeze her inner thigh in an evil twist on the girl’s reality. Let her know her place. At the back of the line; maybe some other time, though not likely. Yeah, probably not, honey.
April 29 2004
Suddenly, out of nothing comes a pitch black backdrop. That’s all there is.
Repetition of these words, over and over. “Nothing. Things Change. And apparently, so do people.”
The ability to feel anything is overcome by the black and fades into little gray shades of nothingness; just an echo of pain in my hollow stomach that leads to more of the same thing. There are circles in my head where I just keep chasing the same blankness of a tail around, hoping it will spawn something more.
The floor that doesn’t exist (hey, you accurately show me where it is) is sucking me in. I’d say I was sinking but that would imply a surface and a rippling effect of some sort. This presence is neither seen nor felt. Helpless? What is depression?

2004-07-10T00:45:00.000-04:00

nick and i wrote this out in goodale park. it's a really complicated song that requires a few practice rounds for us to play it right. nick doesn't remember all the nice intricate vocal parts i threw in and finds the necessity to only sing with the guitar melody. it aggravates me. but this song is really good.

Hiding Where the Light Can't Reach.

the mind secedes,
claims the body as it's property.
there's a line drawn in the sand,
separating hand from hand.
eye to eye does not apply
they both see a different side.
chains and whips, gravity and age.
the mind commands, the body obeys.
momentum rolling, the sides are chosen.
women and children run for shelter.
nothing here will remain
unbroken.
[bridge#1]
the armies rally, raising their masters to the stage
the curtains part in a fit of rage.
the mind attacks with a blast of thought
the heart counters with passion and flame
the body divides,
limbs choosing side, just trying to survive.
the story thickens as the plot ensues.
both sides will win and both sides will lose.
nothing here will remain
unbroken.
[bridge#1]
hiding where the light can't reach.
the phone unplugged, the house empty.
buried underneath your sheets
trying hard to runaway.
but you can't find your feet...
[bridge#2]
as the lights sink into the hill,
no one has claimed victory.
For all of the blood that spilled,
came from one body.
[bridge#1]
lying where the light can't reach
the heart unplugged,
the mind empty.
this coffin is your home to keep.
this coffin is your home to keep...

2004-05-25T16:33:00.001-04:00

i enjoy this alot.

she's the teenage laugh that shadows crow's love, and the uncontrolled convulsions with a cackled "shut up."
there's nothing that she does that i could forget. she's stuck like a tumor inside of my head.
Brain's burned dry by the heat of passion's flames.
there's two bodies entwined, caught up in the blaze.
(it's the 3rd degree. from downtown to your gated community.)

there's a thunder in his stomach, it rattles the Hermes lamps in his apartment.
it's a hunger inside for injustice, as he hops onto the ladder from the barbed wire fence.
he creeps onward toward the sky, seeping through the dark.
his anorexic cave is subdued by feeding on the homeless hearts.

there's a life i'm seeing that i'm quite likely to take,
cos there's promises i've been keeping that i wass too dumb to make.
and everyone here loves to coment on how i'm doing things wrong.
the world won't be a better place, until they're the ones gone.
Please get some medication.

2004-05-25T16:33:00.000-04:00

"there's nothing like dreaming we'll collide.
my shit-faced grin and your hand-stitched eyes.
coz they went missing from the County Fair.
and now i see them resting right there.
you must be blind. you must not cry.
you must not feel the itch that urges us to try.
coz there's a piece of glass stitched into your eye."

2004-05-25T16:32:00.000-04:00

don't know if this has been published or not

the windows were left open
the evening that winter came
and there they stayed
for month by months, and months on end,
until all the green grass was dead.
but then, by spring we were both surrounded.
dark as night, winter remained,
purging joy from my head.
i spoke aloud, just to be ignored,
and you just stared
out that window, like nothing mattered
and you no longer cared.
so i just prayed and dreamed for the day
when i can give in.

the green shades of the windowsill
reflect themselves onto your face.
it's an image i cannot forget,
with the moonlight fading.
devoured by broken clouds
like the bitter pieces of the youthful dream
that someday it'll be okay
for us to give in.

2004-05-25T16:31:00.000-04:00

don't know if this is up here already or not.

Desperate Terms

Desperate terms pleaded by a desperate man
who’s been tried and sentenced to his death
for a crime he’s positive he didn’t commit.
his days are given numbers, but now he’s down to minutes.
as he swallows the knot in his throat, he whispers, “this has gotta be a test.”

His hands are temples where holy things happen.
Can’t retract his smile, he’s looking like a mad-man.
He wakes up in the wet grass with others’ blood on his hands
and a narcoleptic body to meet his subconscious demands.

2004-05-25T16:27:00.000-04:00

i gave this to nick, and he wrote a better second verse that i don't have. he played it for joy, and she cried and kept making him play it. this song's leading to a real band for me. =)

(Untitled #50)
Standing on the corner of Martyr and Idiot
your hair, is it caught by the wind,
as you throw yourself into that crowd
of people all poised to attack?
but now you’re not really sure what you were thinking
and you are begging and wishing
that these actions
could be taken back.

but we can’t
and there’s many reasons why
your pretty head has become so bothered
that you just watch the present pass you by.
living in moments that we’ve already conceived;
not understanding that you’re stuck in memories
that they’re wiping clean.

do you remember the day our block flooded,
I was eight and you were twelve?
we walked in the high water
our feet turning forty shades of blue.
and just nine years later this place has turned to hell
for both me and you.

there’s questions we have never answered
because they lead to so much pain.
but now ignoring them is useless
with you so far away,
residing in your coma,
there’s no reason left to try.
I just want you back in Columbus
so that my heart can finally die.

2004-04-09T09:56:00.000-04:00

Untitled #47

"if you can keep the hounds at bay
just maybe then. maybe we could stay,
stuck in this timezone for another hour."
bullet! it doesn't matter what i try to say
she's still kneeling down as if she prays,
bent over like a flower.
and. and. and.
(i am being ignored)
but the inevitable was somewhere in the shadows
where we couldn't see,
as we laid our bodies down in that meadow,
to sleep eternally.
but that's just what we liked to think.
there was a world going by outside
(that's just what we loved to think.)
that these tall grasses could only hide
temporarily.
that's just what we loved to think.

and now that i'm out of that dream world
i'm just wishing that i was fucked up
because that's the only way that i can find
to escape this place, to escape this state of mind.
but isn't this her fault?
laying naked in that bed
(Heathen)
with those razor-sharp legs
making paper-crisp cuts
all across my wrists
or is it in the air
that intoxicated my lungs,
sent the fumes straight to my head
and away from my life undone.

so scribble out another page in that diary.
it's just more thoughts that leave a soul crying.
(is it just? is it just?)
it doesn't matter if it's you, her, or me.
eventually, one of us will end up dying.
and that is a plot turn we cannot ignore
(is it just? is it just?)
as your ink spills out onto the floor.
you wipe it up but still a few stains remain.
forming a question, "is it ever gonna be the same?"
(is it the same? is it still the same?)
question: "are you ever gonna be okay?"
(are we all gonna be okay? is it okay?)
lesson: "this is what you get for pain."
pain that is what you cause, spread over thousands of pages
that you lost somewhere among your fits of raging
due to incoherent thoughts caused by a frame
of life... that you created.
(is it just? is it just?)

say you won't be a lost cause.
say you won't.
(say you won't. say you won't.)
call off your games. remove your clothes.
assume this form that is so pure,
that it causes even reality to blur.
for that moment until you finally explode.
in a heat of passion for precision,
and then you realize the faults of your descison
but it's too late. you're done and through,
and he becomes just another to walk away from you.
you, covered in his sweat. you, just an outlet
for chemicals trapped inside his head
you, just a face and body he can easily forget.

2004-04-09T09:55:00.004-04:00

Untitled #46

"we gave birth to a wreckless generation
and gave them every excuse to be lazy."
Rising Action- "'we do what we did
out of love of our children,'
but our subconscious is just creating
the world we wished we lived in."
This is the Rising Action!

Conflict: And now, the babies rise against
their creators; gaurdians that live in sin.
Suburbs are battle grounds for the warring parties
each with a one-track mind-set: their foes' utter destruction.
Here, we create the Conflict!

Climax in an unbelievable dream of static:
jumping channels to avoid the foreign hack,
our adultery spreads borders, but is really nowhere,
just a phantom with an everchanging location.
Living in a static Climax!

Falling Action- we shall fall like little angels from the sky,
victim to the elder bow, seen as martyrs in the future's eye,
becoming what we swore we'd never be when our age only multiplies,
fighting all the way to our shallow graves in the sands of time.
Falling Action!

Resolution- did i hear a revolution? no, the voice is silent!
Realization: there's not much passed death but more violence.
Kingdoms ruled by greed jumping on the shoulders of pragmatics
wearing steel stiletto heels. the drawn blood's just another product of
Resolution!

Denoument- Greed always dies young on the faces of the old.
when the youth are brainwashed, there's no survivors or truth to be told.
they fight their wars with secret alliances to perfect the teenage mold,
with armies of us, their slaves enrolled, minds' destroyed, and our bodies' sold.
carry out the criteria!
a bomb is placed.
a world explodes.
where's your face?
"who knows?"
Such Charisma!
Denoument!

We all die in the Denoument!

2004-04-09T09:55:00.003-04:00

Untitled #45

Lie in your bed,a shut-in died twice.
there's a layer of skin covering your eye.
is it flashy like a mirror,
or broken like your sense of hell?
here's a coupon: one fresh-baked soul,
redeemable anywhere lies are told.

So do you get your truth from the sky?
decoding its mumbles and moans,
translating a letter from each lie:
a form of poetry similar to the sonnet.
What miseries your ego still regrets!
I've fixated my mind, body, and ghost
on the job of attaining,
through the hisses of your biography,
the art of being: loved
by God who's not your god
unless you pay up.

Quote, "i know you know!"
the way that you see each face changes,
the way glitter glows,
when the spotlights hit you famous.
i will forget you!

Your Flesh! is the best baked and tasty.
these mirrors can fib for the right amount of money.
pebbles skip white, all the colors gleam black
red-handed assasin!
de-best-friended; the daggers
still dangle from your bloody back.

you and your dreamt pre-teen fame
that pulses your signal like something sexual
for the Spotlights to discover and claim.
and keep as their's forever,
one fresh-baked style-meister,
yet deceased, but increasingly dead.
but don't you agree it's better
than the chemical burns?
Their Flesh! bubbles like warm bath water.
the acid mutilates!
You deserve the death that you faked.
In the charred Fall air,
where the laws are all the same
but nobody cares.

so i was looking in the stars for an outlet
for the anger their worship created.
more hatred was all i found!
The flow's been disrrupted
chemicals ruptured in my brain.
everything's going to burn
when my ship begins to sink
all i was looking for in the
stars was an outlet
for the anger their worship
of You had created
but all i found was a dream
where we're both deceased.
we were already dead!

2004-04-09T09:55:00.002-04:00

randomness from my AIM profile:

Soldiers drop from the flanks of their personal armies
with wounds brought on by society's necessary surgery.
We need you to repeat: conformity
through body, mind, and lack of soul.
release yourself for all you've got.
Just let that TV take control.
Men and women fall by their own red-slighted hand
when their brilliance remains an undiscovered land.
I won't crumble.

Just like a gun:
pretty and i can't stop staring her in the eye.
"semi-automatic. reload, motherfucker.
second shot, you got to let go, motherfucker."

2004-04-09T09:55:00.001-04:00

Empty Sink, still stained Red

down the hall, there is a porcelain room,
where the empty sink is still stained red.
the victim that it's taken
lies in comas, permanently unshaken.
but he doesn't mind whether he's alive or dead.
and he has a wife who sits by his bed every night,
wondering what it is she did wrong, or forgot
to do right.
but it's not her fault, yet not really his.
just another victim to the question of what life really is.

droned by the drugs that they served him up.
they told him, "life could be better."
so trusting of that yellowed paper
centered on the wall,
that he believed in and followed
the doctor's every beckoning call.
but life wasn't better.
he stood there confused and with his ego bruised,
choking back those tears, bound-for-shoes.
not out of vanity, not out of pride, just out of the fear
that he might find... that no body here cared.

well knives cut deep. they sever hearts,
even when it's just an arm they carve.
there he laid open like a turkey, with a lack of blood.
filled with Wild Turkey, and those sleeping drugs,
a deadly combo plus his wounds.
his death could never come too soon.
because it was just his way to think,
'i can't live to see that blood-stained sink.'

down the hall, in their bed, his wife slept,
so unaware of the tears that he never wept,
which now flowed a dark hue of red,
running down the hall from his wrist.
in the morning she awoke
with that taste on her breathe
of a lover not kissed,
as his cold blood was wept.

and now, in his head, he is thinking,
"well fuck, here i am laying,
all these tubes coming out of me.
i couldn't kill my sick brain,
just my wife's soul and my frail body."
back at home, the hall's taken on
the most horrible smell.
it screams,
"death toll: two halves, thus one whole.
but there's still two here, trapped in
THIS HELL."

2004-04-09T09:55:00.000-04:00

Your Chance to Fail

Christ came upon me and
smacked me with his father's sin.
the guilt, the filth, that was his
rape of a pure women.
and i'd kill for that chance
to lay in bed with him
and stab that knife
through his holy chest;
to create a world that's not so fucked up.

jesus mary joseph
living on through the holy grail
instilled a world that's not so lonely
where even the labels fail.
where the labels fail.

a plaid pattern of blood
is singed into my flesh.
the truth stands on the right.
we stack the wicked on the left.
here we hear evil scream, 'til
all blood leaves and our conscience grows def,
a second before they're just gray clouds
rising from the smokestack.
to create a world that's just as fucked up.

jesus mary joseph
living on through the holy grail
instilled a world that's not so lonely
where even the labels fail.
where the labels fail.

where even the labels fail...

where the sky, it turns to nothing,
an overcast of hail.
inhibitions are set aside
and your story becomes
your own tale to tell.

the sky, it turns to nothing.
an overcasting hail
where inhibitions are thrown aside
and your choices become
your own chance to fail.

jesus mary joseph
living on through the holy grail
instilled a world that's not so lonely
and even the labels fail.
where the labels fail.

your chance to fail.

2004-04-09T09:54:00.004-04:00

"i hate you," i hear her say
it doesn't make me any weaker
it doesn't break any bones
but she storms out of the hall
into the corner of her room
"i am broken," she cries
in that corner all alone
whore for the century
her mother's distressed
made space in her attire for me
wear me like a dress
you know you were the one
but the slate's been erased
or maybe it was just wrong
now the correct is in its place
i am the king.
and my glory rests
on your tainted head.
i am the one.

2004-04-09T09:54:00.003-04:00

Saddest Faces

the saddest faces, to me, are the ones smiling,
in all their blissful glory, soon to fade,
the final page of their picture-book story.

ice forms at the brim of my glasses,
sicles sliding down past my waist.
their points are round, but sharp
enough to pierce the skin with proper grace.
cut. master the wounds, freeze-dry the burns,
slide off the globe, as the wheels turn.

the sadest faces, to me, are the ones smiling,
in all their blissful glory, soon to fade,
the final page of their picture-book story.

ink stains, an image plain, pay to see.
an off-centered cut, full set of memories,
ones so happy you forget the scenes.
and you count on me to recount them,
list them off in some poetic rhyme.
the beauty you see, is nothing to me,
but just another fucking line.

[instrumental]

i left him laying in the skylight,
where the crowds could all gaze,
fucking eyes, open wide, staring high,
for his dark silouhette to fade into his face
crashing down through unbroken glass
onto the ground, chalk outlines to be erased,
a figment of a forgotten past.

the sadest faces, to me, are the ones smiling,
in all their blissful glory, soon to fade,
the final page of their picture-book story.

2004-04-09T09:54:00.002-04:00

GRass is GReeneR

they say that the grass is always greener on the other side.
when i look passed the fence, all the grass has died.
but they're still right. still right.

live, as long as you learn, just live, live out your life.

and things couldn't be much better than the way i pretend they are.
i refuse to see what world you inhabit. i live the life of a star.
forever a speeding car. speeding car.

live, as long as you learn, just live, live out your life.

wreck. the theory of crime. that we carry out.
must come to a stop. realizations sprout now.
they caught on, back at the liquor store.
we'll run. smash the pedal into the floor.
we'll run out of here. we'll run out of here.
give it time, and we will be safe.
and you. you did this yourself.
you could've say no. made me carry through.
i am a man. man of my word. i am not like you.
they line the streets with synthetic grass.
now that is absurd. but it is greener than anything
before it came.

2004-04-09T09:54:00.001-04:00

WAiTING for someThING

i made it to the exit at a quarter to five.
i waited and waited. but i saw no signs of life.
i waited for hours. and my flesh bled away.
it's the thought that keeps playing over and over again.
the time when i realized you were gone.

i'm waiting for something. something you know will never show.
i'm waiting for the tears to flow, and eventaully give me something
to drown myself in.
and if that something weren't to call tonight, i don't think that i would mind.
i could wait it out until tomorrow.
and if there's still no ring from my receiver, i think i'd rip it from the wall.
throw it out the window, maybe, then, you'd call.
well, maybe, then you'd call.

i made it home to find a letter you wrote.
reciting how you just don't know...
(you don't know anything.)
...what is wrong, or where i am. or when i let go.
you're such a scam. but i can let that slide.
atleast you gave it a try sometime back then.
and that's when i learned what i now know.
i'm waiting for the tears to start their flow.
and enventually give me something
to drown myself in.
but they're reluctant. they come out so slow.
you break down the process, into such easy steps.
but, my ducts don't understand, the motion of your hand
as you wave goodbye...

why, when every sadist gets his day,
am i left to die alone on a wednesday.
(as you wave goodbye...)

2004-04-09T09:54:00.000-04:00

my feet are blue from the cold-
not only because i'm getting old-
i got a chill today
because my son can read every word i say
how will i know when iam truly alone
or just under the gatekeepers grope?
do i have privacy?
or was that pre-1984?

2004-04-09T09:53:00.002-04:00

Seven Digit Kill
these seven digit numbers
can hide your scarred face.
the more you dial,
the more blood you taste.
the higher you climb,
the further you'll drop,
the quicker you'll stop.
can't you fasten
your rope onto some ledge?
broken carabineers
will make appointments missed.
and they charge fees,
for the left empty seats.
price for the absence of memories:
a hollow space on your finger turned green.
what once filled its hole,
was a symbol of control.
in the shape of love,
a ring polished just enough
to meet the requirements of state:
to pledge yourself,
physically, mentally,
unhesitantly, monetarily;
just enough to hide your hate.
what exactly, did you intend to create,
when you laid yourself out
upon that silver-plate,
with your high-cheekboned features,
your high-paying career,
that car you drive, your tailored suits,
and the sense of humor that you choose to use
to ever so quickly reel them in,
capture them in your finely decorated apartment,
where no one could ever intend to escape
the fresh style with which you rewrote their fate,
and give to them everything they could imagine,
and take from them everything they kept hidden
on the shelf at the center of their chest,
as you build for them an idol to detest?
you hold no sympathy,
breaking whatever your foot can reach.

2004-04-09T09:53:00.001-04:00

Fucking the Artist

when i looked where they told me to search, I found so many clues, all pointing the gun at you. and the mission statement was worded decisively,
so no one could escape the fate planned for me: a hospital bed, within Greater Columbus. a third floor view of the world I blamed on you when they fed me their lies, out of their fucking vicious minds. well, I’ve grown beyond that now.

but, in that bed, is where you slept, two weeks before I arrived. you laid victim to my verbal attack, a week later you died. they searched your body in the autopsy, for any signs of foul play. no wound, no bruised, no poison in the system, boredom filled the examiner’s day. he gave up on your cause, it must’ve missed him: your death was lost somewhere within your head.

but the x-rays made the nurse begin to cry. your body’s hollowed out from the inside. and the tears she wept mingled with your hair. something reignited, and those fears collided; possibly a reaction with the air. the veins in your arms tightened around nothing, pumping blood into your head, the death that cursed you suddenly was lifted. in a moment, you came to, a cylinder of no volume. and your heart began to race.

you’re up the hall, and out the door, a cylinder of skin, sliding across the city floor. through the park, you smile at the dogs, and finally you reach our old street. and the freezer’s been left open, in the kitchen that we shared. and our living room is ridden with some other girl’s hairs. noises scream from the back room.

what will you do now, that you came to, to return to the life that disemboweled you, and found your place filled by a stranger; sleeping in your bed, beside your man, eagerly holding onto his hand, trying to make him happy, to kill that infinite sadness? her hair’s colored like the dirt they had dug up for your grave, on a plot to which you are forever enslaved. you beg for the mud to engulf your face.

and her smile’s worth
a thousand words
a small picture
veiled by his tears and blood.
he tried to cover it up,
but she wiped them off,
and they dried
around the edges,
forming a frame
of magnificent
attractiveness.
you just can’t grip
what to make of this.
but, this is what you get
for fucking the artist.

2004-04-09T09:53:00.000-04:00

Look Good

a charred blade
brought to your flesh.
in a state of indignity,
your body lays undressed,
in pieces scattered
across the scene.
a gray outlook
on a new meaning.

what little you say
should be ignored.
attention focuses
on the moving floors.
the leaves have fallen,
they now hide your feet
the motion of these hands,
never so indiscreet.

you don't want to feel
this way forever.
motives lost in September.
and something’s still missing in November.
will you ever understand
the motions played out
by the shadows hidden in the rain?
you can look all the harder,
but, they’ll still stay the same.

your skin is pale, and the flesh
hangs from your bones.
in endless clumps,
your hair falls to the ground.
pulled out in raging hours
you spend mostly alone,
in your closet, down the hall,
from the end of July,
beyond the end of fall.

2004-04-09T09:52:00.002-04:00

Misconstrued MAchine

a misconstrued and utterly abused ideology
has been in charge of raising me
since around the ninth year of my life.
the anger slides about, inside me, like a knife.
I give my best to hold it in
the same place where the reason is.
anger forced, will keep reason company.
they can play monopoly.
I wonder, who will win?
but, the sky is filled with shades of grey,
and the outlook’s colored basically the same.
capitalism is entrusted
to the most unsuitable of people.
ideas are bought, twisted, and wronged,
and sold at the most profitable cost.
mother has seen the worst of this;
her own child raised emotionless
by a machine she helped create,
but unwillingly can’t control.
mother, it’s not your fault.

and the answers to my inquiry
are not the kind meant to make me happy.
they build me a truth; the truth they display
the kind that could be disproved any given day
and all they’ve got to say, is that I’m fucking crazy
much worse. no, it’s much more deadly
than the crudely-versed passenger train
incessantly plowing itself through my brain
powered by the fire that’s kept burning
by the medicine they force upon me,
in return for my honesty.

calendar pages fall like leaves to the sea.
the future remains like the bare branches of the tree.
a beautiful and twisted silhouette in the night.
the birds rest on those unattainable heights.
they steer clear around the bend, keeping high above our sins.
perched on that branch where the fruit Adam ate would’ve been.
and to this day,
it would have remained,
an emblem of our ignorance.
I could have ate bacon with the pigs.
no point in sight, for us to pray at night.
and the pigs could eat human flesh with me,
as reason foots the bill, it’s all you can eat for free.
but, now, that chance is just a thing for which I long,
I make my home from those branches that dropped.
sleeping in the cold, a light kiss warms my lips
in a dream of a girl I knew I had missed.
I ignored her angst and left her to her fate.
and, with flesh, covered up the tiny hole
where she was placed by a well-timed fall.

2004-04-09T09:52:00.001-04:00

(toy man)

I’m on a conquest for a bigger set of arms
that can hold my ego. so that when i fall,
they can catch me,
so i die happy.
but for now I’m just tripping on,
through a life not worth much more
than a fifty-cent piece;
and a dime bag of candy.
they chomp and eat their way through me.
I just look at my hair, dangling down,
wondering how soon they’ll be done,
so that I can be left alone,
legless and struggling to crawl,
and begin my hiding,
from the horrors that chase me.
they're stuck some place inside my head,
where faith is gone and hopes are dead.
reason is lonely.
knowledge grows hungry.
where does it end?

my head grows light and the scenery's fading.
the rack crumbles and the plates are sliding
to chalked lines on the tile
some designer styled
to pay his bills and make his rent.
his dream's already got his profits spent,
that he made off those people.
their want is so wild.
like a young boy’s thirst for a toy man
that his imagination can manipulate using his hand.
because, of his own life, he’s already grown tired.
his man's just an expense he has filed
to keep his confidence unswayed
so the other kids will look his way
when their own popularity has dulled.
and still in denial,
they search the playground for some new friend
who will make them appear cool again.
and they will find him.
all the girls will love him.
where does it end?

2004-04-09T09:52:00.000-04:00

(nothing here but cinder)

porcelain seat
to the porcelain floor
said I should sleep
I tried that and it only
hurts more…
I go lay in the grass.
the air is cool on my face.
I’m returning there for class,
but I still feel out of place
among all the burnt-out-on-cash children.
I’ve taught myself to loathe them,
and made a contract to never be
honest for your sake…

so if you’re running for Miss Significance,
then, madame, I’ll drown for you.
and if you’re running out of oxygen
then, madame, I’ll die for you…

thank you, madame, for killing me.
thank god, someone found the switch, finally.
and I gave away my dignity.
just to keep your flesh nearby,
or at least somewhere I can see…
coz you may not think it,
but as much as you see lies...
eh, I can’t parse my feelings
but one can only try…

went searching through the drawers,
looking for anything to make drama.
the egg cartons are broken,
and my eyes have snapped the canvas.
there’s nothing here but cinder.
a shattered home for winter
you’ve burnt the place to the floor.
and it just hurts more.
my necklace of porcelain
lays across the grass, wet and pale.
the one thing that I need
survived the bombardment of hale.

2004-04-05T17:58:00.000-04:00

The rest of the stuff is on my mom's computer in it's most edited form.

2004-04-05T17:57:00.001-04:00

My Personally Favorite piece i've written, it's amazing. and if you don't agree, fuck you.

'Church Pews are A Sanctity'

When out of liquor, I cried for my cancer, and nicotine somehow lacked.
So I head for the sinners, headfirst into winter, and follow their destructive path.
And as we drink up our poison, and stab at our lungs, there's nothing to do here but laugh.

We dim the lights so the shading's all the same, and we don't leave our love unmasked. But the meaning of the letters will forever remain lost deep in some other's past. And the whole world knows that we inevitably will be refused, no matter how incessantly we beg it to last. This ship that we boarded was sure to sink us from the start. The locks were broken. Torpedo's been seen heading from heart to heart. And on the final day, the ship's carcass will rise, and be carried away on the crest of the tides. And you see her kneeling in the pew that resides just across the aisle from you, in the mass you're so reluctant to attend. But her eyes, they stain; stitch their place into your head. They keep you numb in this hall, this barren hole of tales turned into lies, told and retold, after just 2000 years of warping in the cold. And an age's translation may factor much worse than you could ever know.

And I met a girl who spoke nothing but Bible quotes. I looked her straight in the face and said to her, "you're something quite unusual." She had nothing left to say. But her green eyes replied, sparkling bright; their pompous gaze glaring off my dinner plate. The greenery shined on my spoon, fork, and knife, and landed upon my face, where my own eyes resigned, conjuring up the warmth in this cool-aired space. And just as dinner was winding down, the sinners began making their way into town. I tried my conscious clear down to the core, and after I battled, I found myself sworn to never follow their tired, bloodstained trail. Thus, my makers were struck down by awe, when they saw me reversing the plot of this tale. By now, they knew their planned destiny had surely failed. But then, I forced myself to ask, "Am I really the sculptor of this cold sheet of ice, sleek plane of whites, that we all know now to be my life?" well, join the crowd, watch me thaw away.

And it was the next week when I resaw her, with her forehead blessed by the Father, his Son, and their Ghost. Given a poison, she was yet to know. Her high cheekbones kept her smiling, but her eyes took quite a dulling. Joy, when skewed, turned into a shear glare. Eyes pierced like needles through shards of hanging hair. Her spirit, once high, sails no more. I catch a glimpse of it falling to below these marble floors. Upon crash-landing, with ashes, she was buried, in a grave of the most evil things. A hope of redemption: she opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out to receive the holiest Host. It was as though it took over, made her soul become older; stealing away her youth. And it constructed a cover, a catalyst upon each eye; a shield for the willing, a solid brick of lies; just something to black out the truth.

Well, I turn my body around, shift my sight to the ground in a fit of disgrace. And begin winding my mind away from this place. I'm walking back to the car. I don't know where I am, but I know exactly where she is at. The lines on the palm of my hand recite a poem, saying to me that I'm just as far away from all those books we once read, the thoughts that filled our teenage heads, and all the words youth could make us say. And now, I trudge blindly through this sin, just to find my body lying within a fashionably manufactured coffin; swelling with death, nothing but black in my head, and a barely whispered spiritual-concept: you can earn what you wish, give all you may give; you can wear your women like your sports-coats, or hide those hungover eyes behind all your prayer-books, and live out other ideals such as that. But, at the end of the line, there's just one sureness you'll find: this death is all you will get.

When out of liquor, I cried for my cancer, and nicotine somehow lacked.
So I head for the sinners, headfirst into winter, and follow their destructive path.
And as we drink up our poison and stab at our lungs, there's nothing to do here but laugh.

2004-04-05T17:57:00.000-04:00

when i looked where they told me to search,
I found so many clues, all pointing the gun at you.
and the mission statement was worded decisively
so no one could escape the fate planned for me:
a hospital bed, within Greater Columbus.
a third floor view of the world I blamed on you
when they fed me their lies, out of their fucking vicious minds.
well, I’ve gotten passed that now.

but, in that bed, you slept, two weeks before I arrived.
you laid victim to my verbal attack, a week later you died.
they searched your body in the autopsy,
for any signs of foul play.
no wound, no bruised, no poison in the system,
boredom filled the examiner’s day.
he gave up on your cause, it must’ve missed him:
your death was lost somewhere within your head.

but the x-rays made the nurse begin to cry.
your body’s hollowed out from the inside.
and the tears she wept mingled with your hair.
something reignited, and those fears collided,
possibly a reaction with the air.
in a moment, you came to,
a cylinder of no volume,
and your heart began to race.

you’re up the hall, and out the door,
a cylinder of skin, making its way
sliding across the city’s floor.
and the freezer’s been left open
in the kitchen that we shared.
our living room is ridden
with some other girl’s hairs.

what will you do now, that you came to,
to return to the life that disemboweled you,
and found your place filled by a stranger,
sleeping in your bed, beside your man,
eagerly holding onto his hand
to make him happy,
to kill that infinite sadness?
her hair’s colored like the dirt
that they had dug up for your grave.
on a plot you’ll soon be begging them to save.

and her smiles worth a thousand words
a small picture framed by his tears.
he tried to cover it up.
but she wiped them off,
and they dried around the edges,
forming a rim
of magnificent
attractiveness .
you just don’t know what to make of this.
this is what you get for fucking an artist.

2004-04-05T17:56:00.001-04:00

porcelain seat
to the porcelain floor
said I should sleep
I tried that and it only
hurts more…
I go lay in the grass.
the air is cool on my face.
I’m returning there for class,
but I still feel out of place
among all the burnt-out-on-cash children.
I’ve taught myself to loathe them,
and made a contract to never be
honest for your sake…

so if you’re running for Miss Significance,
then, madame, I’ll drown for you.
and if you’re running out of oxygen
then, madame, I’ll die for you…

thank you, madame, for killing me.
thank god, someone found the switch, finally.
and I gave away my dignity.
just to keep your flesh nearby,
or at least somewhere I can see…
coz you may not think it,
but as much as you see lies...
eh, I can’t parse my feelings
but one can only try…

went searching through the drawers,
looking for anything to make drama.
the egg cartons are broken,
and my eyes have snapped the canvas.
there’s nothing here but cinder.
a shattered home for winter
you’ve burnt the place to the floor.
and it just hurts more.
my necklace of porcelain
lays across the grass, wet and pale.
the one thing that I need
survived the bombardment of hale.

2004-04-05T17:56:00.000-04:00

Everrything Below here is from the "flushed and rEd" cycle of events. this is as recent as the summer of 2003.

2004-04-05T17:55:00.004-04:00

(these bad dreams)

a mass of imperfections in the shape of a scar
everything we do, this is everything we are

lost memories roll across the cold, wet tile
you plot your own death like it’s going out of style
and I continue to have these dreams
where I keep doing bad things
but, I never get caught
but, I’m always on the run
(I know how to feel alone)
you act like it’s so important
that I continue my path of destruction
coz you wouldn’t give your love to me
if I came across any other way…

a mass of imperfections in the shape of a scar
everything we do, this is everything we are

this gasoline tank has been getting heavy
you’ve been filling it since the day you met me
a short and sparse greenery; here is my shield
guarding me tonight from everything considered real
but everything still goes wrong
and my brain sings a distressing song
(my lips just moves along)
my body contorts to make the chords
and these tones come out like some kind of war
but now your gas tank is over-flowing
and you’ve got your match tip glowing…

2004-04-05T17:55:00.003-04:00

Her eyes speak like death to me
And my mind can’t handle the pictures I see
And all the memories we believed
It’s all fake.
Nothing ever happened, nothing ever mattered.
I can’t shake
the feeling that my glass heart this shattered.
We are hit, our plane is going down.
Falling to the ocean,
our thoughts soon to drown.
And I don’t care anymore
About those things we talked about.

Hey, Sara, I don’t care anymore.
Even if you wish I would.
Sara, I don’t care anymore.
But it’s not like I could.

And the areas grow greyer
Like the days
Hey Sara, do me a favor
Look the other way
While I run away.
Sara, you pushed a little too far
don’t forget: you’re hurting yourself
you can’t blame it on that car
that you jumped in front of

2004-04-05T17:55:00.002-04:00

(I’m here to complete you)

no matter how hard I tried
I never knew the way I felt;
even I can’t read myself.
but when I’m in your arms, I melt
and drip into a puddle at your feet.
it is from here I will serve you.
finally, we both agree,
I just might deserve you.

c so let them speak their lies,
h no matter how shrewd.
o coz I’ll be at your side
r in everything you do.
u in everything you go through,
s (I’m here to complete you.)

I’ll never let them hurt you
you are a part of me
and I’ll show them what it’s like
to be ignored. now breathe…

and if you crashed into the sun
I could cry a billions times,
I could write a billion lines
but it wouldn’t change what’s been done
I’ll push myself out of gravity
to the right of your seat I land
I go down to a knee, and kiss your hand
now, in my mind
my life has been justified

2004-04-05T17:55:00.001-04:00

he believed
everything
that you said
now you think
that you’re bet-
-ter off dead

where do you think
you are going?
with the honesty
that you’re showing
I think it
would be better
if you stayed
out of this weather
just to spare your life
you never know
where lightning
might strike

when the plane
comes crashing down
with no landing gears out
passengers and pilots the same
are falling out
of the window
from this floor; life’s story
(with faded glory)

2004-04-05T17:55:00.000-04:00

desperation is meaningless
when you’ve got
everything you wanted
solid or hollow
material or spiritual
and everything those monkeys did
I swear I’ll do better
I’ll show you that I’m the greatest kid
ever
light all the candles, then your cigarette
please give me the chance
I swear I won’t forget
you like your drink deep purple
and refrigerated
and your mix a little exaggerated
but, now, I’m sick of tearing up
old clothes for you
I’m exhausted by
your sarcastic mood
say if you want it
I’ll go and grab it
this is what I get
for falling for you
if you were digging those holes
for the reasons I think you were
please let us turn away and run
I’ll still tell you where we are

the sullen bunch
picks from the apple orchard
but you gotta admit
it’s still rather unfortunate
my eyes were turned away
I swear
I’d never do such a thing
please, not the chair
I want you to know
I’ve made up my mind
it not coming back
if you send it there again
and I’m not something
you’ll easily find
I once ran track
started smoking again

so will you tell them?
or do I tell all your friends
the stupid things
that you did.
that gun we had
I emptied every chamber
but the last one
this I call my savior
I spun it shut
and left it where it was
you thought it was empty
point it at me, then back at your head
but there’s one chance left
you stick it in your mouth
isn’t such a great idea
but this is my plan
to make you leave
it’s not very good
the kids might get
hurt along the way
you let it click five times
and all I can do is say
“keep pulling, keep pulling”
and all the girls around the block
will know what happened
a minute after a single shot
they’ll hear one of us laughing

2004-04-05T17:54:00.004-04:00

somewhere in my head lies a faded photograph of you
in a broken frame of shattered tears
and my window pane can’t forget our troubles
since you left, I’ve never felt more fear.
now I see you walking ahead of me
but still I know that I can’t speak
because I know you’ll ignore me.
I remain in defeat.

somewhere in my house is a worn out phone line
where we plotted out perfect memories of teenage despair.
we spent so many hours pouring verbal gasoline,
never did we realize this fire would kill the air.
I set out to rule the world,
and used you to arrange this blaze.
now I try to dispose of you.
the doctor said it’s just a phase.
I sold my defeat.

in my room, on the shelf
there’s a box of special paper
I keep to myself.
its only purpose is death threats,
letters of love,
goodbye mournings
or all of the above
compacted into one
photographs pasted on letterhead;
intentions
long left unmeant
now throw you across the room
leaving puddles of maroon.
my heart shoots like a gun;
carries out
assassinations
long left undone.
and carries with it a tremor
and it rewords the truth.
I can name anyone at the scene,
but I only incriminated you.
I destroyed defeat.
I created your defeat.
I am responsible for your demise.
now, I can finally die
happy.
I own your defeat.

2004-04-05T17:54:00.003-04:00

hypocrisy
it’s the way we live
never wonder where I’m going
coz I know I’ll end up at home
they craft great metals
in the town of sound and confusion
but around here, all we do
is put the final touch
on the illusion

xXx
your eyes
send splinters.
-emotions-
through the air
they meet mine.
lodged in my ear.
-devotion-
it’s all I hear

betrayal
read me your meaning
turn down the radio, it’s too loud
you’re crushing my skull
you send your message
via bottle in the ocean
we have unwritten rules about how
the gardener feigns his rights
and steals the commotion
xXx

2004-04-05T17:54:00.002-04:00

Leaving in the Middle of the Game

In the very back of your head, if you don’t know why,
then I deserve to die in this bed where I lie tonight.
If I’m a creep, well then, I’m a creep.
You’re the one who’s judging me.
I’d forgotten you and the pain your memory brings.
But in my drawers, god knows why, I found so many things:
a bracelet you’re obsessed with my returning
songs I’ve kept myself from burning
(The emotions continue churning.)

Letters I had written on the tiniest scraps of paper;
not one of them was true.
And underneath it all, I found a picture of you.
Everything we did, everything we enjoyed
slips slowly now, into the void
You were greatly used and abused.
by a boy you thought had proved
that he loved you and would do anything.
But now you’re never returning.

This misuse has made you afraid.
You can’t take back the love you gave.
And your tank is on empty (running on empty).
with little or no incentive
You’re stepping out of this dance,
willing to lose romance.

With little or no incentive
Your tank is running on empty.
You’re stepping out of this dance.
It looks like we’re losing our last chance.

2004-04-05T17:54:00.001-04:00

(I won’t understand)

and it’s the ecstasy
of the sky above me
and everyday is never again the same
new telephone rings
for off-the-hook celebrations
of apathy
and unused sheets
that lay hidden

your humor is instantaneous
with the world that surrounds you
but you care for a pause
something to sink your teeth into
but the tape is breaking up
and I’m losing you
where are… you???

* long ago you left her
c but alone at night you shiver
h and goose bumps fill your brain
o your telephone never rings
r her quivered hands can’t stroke the dial
u while her words lay unspoken
s your tears will keep you choking
* but I won’t understand

you’re choking on the oxygen
that you refused to breathe
your fingernails are broken
you’ve been clawing your way away from me
(I won’t understand, I won’t understand)
now that you’re falling to pieces
you send her a letter of treaty
(but she can’t open it, but she can’t open it)
she places it in a cave
under a pile of your clothes
(between furniture and her dirty floor)
together, you will make a tragic couple
when you’re both dead
(her hand’s quivering, and I don’t understand)

2004-04-05T17:54:00.000-04:00

(emo car-rides)

I love these emotional car-rides
defined by singing
of a never-ending song.
I’d like to state it for the record:
this could never last too long.
(among the ones I love)

straight faced honesty
could never be as true
as what you said the day
you opened up to me
and the words I spoke
when I replied to you

and after you left
the only thing running
through my sick head
were unseen lies
caused by words we may’ve left unsaid
but my dog agrees:
“those days are all dying.”
coz I won’t ever deceive you
and you would never lie to me

and now I’ll walk back inside
and sink in our perfect happiness
wherever you are tonight
I just want you to know
this is the life
(my life)
this is,
the life

chorus:
driving down the road,
together we scream.
holding the melody,
with Conor leading
the way.

2004-04-05T17:53:00.002-04:00

the sky is turning greyer
and all sensations scream
under the premonition
that these ways would always turn
I kept up the never-ending cycle
and allowed these vitals to burn
now they’re never coming back
bruised, bloody, and slowly fading to black

I will take all the credit
deserved in this disaster
I knew I’d end up dying,
but I had to die faster
and look where these thoughts
have gotten us
we’re lying in the gutter
bitter, shivering, and ashamed
we’ve got no one but ourselves to blame

stupidity of my generation
was never a good excuse
I blame it on fake chemicals
that we all soon learned to use
though in the end
we were the ones
to be abused
and now the time has come for
me to make an exit
and if you still hear me speaking
well then you’ve gone crazy

2004-04-05T17:53:00.001-04:00

(a chance to die)

orange cones block us from the construction.
red road signs along the path to destruction.
you throw yourself at the yellow lines;
cars swerve and leave you standing there alive.
I’m glad they never happened,
the things you had in mind,
coz my chest would feel empty,
and I’d probably drink myself blind.
xXx
did you turn back to the straight edge?
did your parents find another bloody wedge,
that you dug into your beauty
for fear that you might lose me?
but, you don’t have to worry,
I’d never leave you hollow-chested or alone.
coz I know what that’s like;
to be unhated, yet alone;
to pick up the phone
to nothing but a lonely dial tone,
everyday that you live
not knowing what it is that you did.
xXx
I know that feeling,
scribbling down words on white cards,
then tearing them up,
coz reading it back is just too hard.
and leaving that note,
explaining a complicated why;
when you had every chance to live,
you just wanted a chance to die.
xXx

chorus
I’ll never call your bluff
I’ll never tell a lie
coz there’s no part of me
that wants to see you die

2004-04-05T17:53:00.000-04:00

This is all from "Indigo Vertigo" as my sweet self called it.

2004-04-05T17:52:00.004-04:00

it’s honesty time…
you know the song radio by alkaline trio? well download it if you don’t. it’s one of those songs that make me cry when I’m listen to it by myself. I think I am a psychic masochist. I have two levels of thought and the one that seems to control everything always wants the things I know is going to hurt in the end. and that’s my explanation for things like heather. it’s also this second level that has kept me from killing myself. that would end the pain too easily.
another thing I have to admit to is I convert everything in my life to a temperature and a numerical value in my head. everyday is just a game, and I’m not even in control. when I borrow gonja, it makes me realize all of these things. and then the people whom I love the most tell me that borrowing it is bad and they don’t respect me coz I do it, it hurts. it traps me in a cage where I have to watch my life get played out by some other person and I can’t do anything about it. I need to borrow the lady more. I need her, and I need her. I assume I need HER, but that’s just that second level forcing me back to her so I can get hurt again and again. and my eyes hurt the most from crying so many fake tears, and not crying the real tears that need to be cried. I feel like a mirror, doing the opposite of the real image I set forth. I'm melting, becoming the sand I once was, and I might vaporize and become the nothing I really am, so shallow and worthless. why couldn’t I have been born a senator’s son, ready to fill the shoes?

I don’t know how to deal with it Tony, I'm confused and every where I go I seem to keep running into corners. it’s like a huge maze I can’t find my way out of. and I feel like I can't ever say anything to you because I feel like I can’t just say whatever I am thinking, I have to pick the best way to say it and so sometimes I just think its better not to say whatever I’m thinking but I just get farther and farther into the maze. And I don’t wanna play games, but if that is what you think it is I don’t want it to stop either. I don’t wanna loose you but I’m not sure I wanna be in a relationship cus I don’t think I even know you, people tell me stuff about how your not the same person around me, and I cant tell if all you want is a physical relationship, but that’s not all I want, like Joe said, your thinking with the wrong part of your body when your with me, and I don’t want that to be how you always act around me. I have changed so much, you knew who I was before, but I think I am a whole new person. I don’t know what else to say and I don’t know if I can even get you to understand everything I mean. I don’t wanna play games. If you think its a good idea I think we should just hangout more often, or if you just wanna stop everything now, I can understand how you would be sick of all this, I dunno, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND!!!!!
heather
sometimes, in the morning, I wake up coz the sun is coming through the blinds. that makes me want to kill myself. I am in the worst mental condition I think I could ever be in, but I still think normally. I can keep going everyday. I don’t know why. I always think about you and where you are or what you’re doing. and then, how we should be at the same place, at the same time and just bump into each other. how cute would that be? but, whenever I actually make some form of contact with you, or talk about you with someone, I always get very uneasy. I find it hard to breathe because of the deep pain in my chest; it feels like someone dropped a bowling ball in my chest. i still carry your picture in my wallet. and when people look through it and see your picture they ask who you are. I tell them about us and everything and my head starts to hurt and my eyes get dry. I start stuttering. I think of what an idiot I am to do anything that could remotely hurt you in anyway. I’ve had two girlfriends since you. I broke up with one because of you. and the other was aggravated by the fact that when we talked about you, I said I still loved you. I can’t say anything bad about you, no matter how much I want to, I can’t, my jaw stops functioning and my mind goes blank. do I know you anymore? no. do I have chances to get to know you? no. would I take one? yes. do I love you? yes.
p.s. after all this talk by you about how I don’t even know you, and you stand hard by a remark by Joe, about me. he doesn’t know me. he didn’t have any knowledge of anything of what happened between us, he hasn’t the faintest clue of the blind dedication I have to you.

2004-04-05T17:52:00.003-04:00

this is for the only one who caught my heart and clung on though those days
and let go and forced herself away. it doesn’t make any sense. how can I change this, how can I win you back? what are your demands? what is it that I lack? I’m trying to pull through, I trying to reach the top of the cliff I fell off of and cope with the monsters up there. and I do all of this just to be the one to smell your hair. do you call that devotion? do you call that love? and if you still won’t believe then I guess I’ll ay that I’m though with you and this fucked-up world where every move I make is to sweep a girl off her feet. there’s nothing else here to live for. there’s nothing here that’s good. well, there’s nothing I can get to.

so I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re stuck behind my eyelids. don’t worry, I’ll get you out, I’ll never quit trying. thinking I can help you is about the only thing that keeps me alive coz everything else is pushing me to dieing.

(I just avoided disaster)
squeeze me as hard as you can
squeeze the life from within my skin
I’ll close my eyes and imagine you’re here.
but, I know it’ll never again be this way, at least that’s what I hear
but I’m begging you to never put me down. don’t let me out of your mind.
I’m just a small child, please, dear, please, be kind.
I shut my eyelids and see my eye.
and if you ever open your mouth again it won’t be no lie, but it won’t be sincere because another soul has placed it there.

Tony, this is what I have been meaning to tell you, but wanted talk in person. You don’t love me and you know that, i feel like i don’t even know who you are and if i don’t know who you are how can you possibly know me? the word love is over used by everyone in this world and so i don’t think people should say it unless they really and truly know what love actually is and even if someone does mean it they say it so much that when you really wanna tell someone how much you love them it wont be enough and it wont mean as much because they say it all the time. This e-mail prolly should have been made sooner and you might have already forgotten stuff and might not even care now but now i don’t feel so guilty for not saying what i have been meaning to say. i hope you had a good Christmas!! and happy new year! write back some time
heather

his parents were always fighting
and he could never know where his real mom was
but it didn’t make a difference really
and he never knew actually what he was
but in his mind he’s just a tragedy

2004-04-05T17:52:00.002-04:00

Dejected urgency focuses its spotlight on me. With a new-found ignorance lured by a well known fragrance, I started creeping away from you. I’m sorry for caring; I’ll lose another life for you. Too late, I know my placement. Before long, I found the two of us in the basement. It was wrong to be adjacent to her, but by now I have come to face it. Then I couldn’t come crawling back to you. So sorry for caring, I’ll continue to lose this life for you. You don’t know what you’re saying…

2004-04-05T17:52:00.001-04:00

Shelly
I don’t know what her name is
But I think that it’s Michelle
Something about a panda
Yeah, that rings a bell
And we share a common friend
Who I’m thinking’s pretty hot
She wears All-Stars with Gucci
And spends her summers on her yacht

*Shelly’s always there talking
And I can’t remember if I’m listening
I think the bricks are falling
And every dew drop’s glistening*

I can remember a particular conversation
We had about my crotch
I always thought I was big
But she convinced me I’m not
And her chest came up in the talk
Nipples like dinner plates
She’s really weird like that
That’s why we make such good mates
*
I think her name is Philemon
Coz it sounds like what she’s doing
Panda just shove it in there
And Shelly, do the chewing
Me and this girl Bethany
We’ll hang on the side
And leave you to your business
It’s bitznitch, Shelly, you lied
I was right, I was right…
*

2004-04-05T17:52:00.000-04:00

Tonight I’ll be Alone
Today I meet my match. Today I found my own ending.
Today I find no messages worth comprehending.
Today I lose myself. Today I lose those nights.
Yesterday I didn’t pay my electric, so they cut off my lights.
Today is the death of all this innocence
In a world that never made much sense
I lost myself.
Tonight, the static shimmers off the street light
Through my window furthering my insight
Only now do I realize the depth of my plights
I just want to get a decent amount of sleep.
Today I wake up early. Today I wake up tired.
Today I walk into work early on time to find myself fired.
Today I lose myself. Today I lost my rights.
Today I win my spirit, today I lose the fight.
Yesterday, I did not make the cut.
so today my wrist will take another on.
I lost myself.
cut through static, tonight, on my way home.
cut the light, tonight I’ll be alone.
phone is disconnected. tonight I expect no call but one.
cut the light, tonight I think I’ll be alone.

2004-04-05T17:51:00.004-04:00

Running out of this land of symmetry
Climbing down from this dyslexic tree
I’m running away from you.
Burning the asphalt under these tires
Walking on the coals of these blue fires
I’m running away from you.
I’m showing resistance against the persistence you hold.
I’m running away from you.
Regeneration. I’ve become sessile.
Been holding onto to you for such a long while
I’m running away from you.
Dying yourself with black hair dye
Answering my questions with the tears in your eyes.
I’m running away from you.

2004-04-05T17:51:00.003-04:00

And you sing a song of loneliness.
And you know you were wrong about happiness.
Someone caught you in the bushes.
And you sleep away these nightmares
until the moment may arrive.
You’ve become accustomed to your black hair
and all these problematic problems that keep you alive.

And you’re not so sure
What you’re doing all this for
And they can’t begin to understand
Until they see the skin
Beneath the palm of your hand

And you sing a song so delirious
That even it loses touch with happiness
You caught yourself in the rush
And you sleep through the flat lines
And the touch of the shock pads
They just don’t understand
You’re such a good kid
“Why’d you do this?
You never seemed too sad.”

2004-04-05T17:51:00.002-04:00

I’m gonna get a job coz Frank said I should
I’m gonna tell the truth, just like Negri always would
I’m gonna wear sweaters and dress real nice
My white shoes’ll help conquer every vice
If you weren’t a Christian, I’d call you Jesus
I’m a believer.

“It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood”
Waking up to shattered dreams and knowing that you could
Carry on without a doubt,
and get real high and just pass out
In the back seat of a moving car
carrying you away to someplace far
And when you wake up to see the moon,
you know you woke up a minute too soon
You wanted to sleep for an eternity,
but you woke up to buckle yourself to your seat
Coz he’s driving fast and really dangerous,
and he nearly ran into to the back of a bus
And you’re worried that he’s not sober,
so you cry and beg him to pull over.
You notice you’re not in the neighborhood of Make-Believe,
coz you can’t believe anything you see
And you lost touch with everything;
some people might call you insane
But you’re not losing it; you know you’re good;
you tie your shoes just like you should
And Mr. Rogers is never really dead;
you keep him alive in the back of your head.
And his talk is a constant, yeah;
we all think you definitely lost it.
Welcome to Make-Believe,
you’re back where you can trust what you see
And everything is a puppet or a picture,
and the kids are all happy.
The parents are together,
back in the kitchen fixing food for you and your brother.
We’re all kids again,
and you love the way we live, in Make-Believe.
Where everything is love…..
“Welcome to the neighborhood.”

2004-04-05T17:51:00.001-04:00

And my white paper went unmarked
Coz I wrote those words on my heart,
My mind, my thigh down to my knee
I wrote those final letters everywhere that you can’t see.
I’m not sure I want to know
Why I can’t be everywhere you go.
So the black boards are erased
And fiction has taken their place
You won’t stay here with me
Because you say I’m insane
But I’m different now, I swear it.
I’m never really the same.

I find you in the coffee shop, huddled in a corner alone.
this explains why you never pick up the phone.
smiling, I walk over and sit down
Your reply: “I don’t have time for you now”
And you’re walking away; taking those nights with you.
And it’s over now, I can’t see through you.
My vision’s blocked by the quarters in my eyes
And I heard you promise,
You promised me I’d never have to say goodbye.
Were you wrong? Or am I losing my mind?
I can’t take it, you’re so hard to read.
I feel like I’m marching in a foreign land
with a dead man at the lead
and we’re heading no where fast enough to make my ears bleed.

2004-04-05T17:51:00.000-04:00

Leaving Your Hallway At Three In The Morning

What would you say if I carved up my wrists?
And traced out your forehead with my kiss?
And if you want me to I could leave you by tonight.
The space my face once occupied would be turned to white.
(All our pictures would be burned)

It’s just, lately all the voices in my head
Are telling me that I should be dead

And I made you in a perfect lie
You’re the tall brunette with the single glass eye
So, Jenny, please give me a kiss
(And remember) I never meant to leave you like this

I’m on the corner of my block
I’m standing in the traffic the cars are all stopped
I’m lying on the pavement, burning, cold, and black
I’m face down on my stomach, screaming (I want you back)

I’m counting out all the times I’ve failed
Telling them to the full moon
All my letters are in the mail.
They’ll be there for you to throw away soon.

And with this condensed message
I leave you in your sleep
And now I leave your hallway
To do this evil deed
I hope you’ll never have to see me again.
I hope you’ll never see…

2004-04-05T17:50:00.005-04:00

maybe we had a big misunderstanding. maybe I was wrong this whole time. perhaps she didn’t feel that way to begin with? what do I do when I don’t know what I am doing? what time is it? where am I? this is all wrong. she’s gone, and she’s here, but I still feel like I want to throw up every second of the day, or pass out, or just fall over and die altogether. I do everything I possibly can to work this out and the outcome forces me to do everything I possibly can to end this whole mess. a knife, a window, a pill bottle, a moving car, a trigger, it’s all the same to me now… means, they’re all means to carry out this deed. it’s hopeless, the resistance I apply, I can’t back down, I’ve been pushed to where it is I am. and I cannot back down off this ledge, I can’t remove my finger from the trigger, and these headphones will not falter from their placement over my ears, shutting the world out, letting everyone know how I feel about them. no one will be there, no one will be given the pleasure and I made the decision for no one, it was made in sheer greed, resistance to the needs of all. I am no longer the bitch of this town, and I will no longer comply with its wishes. it is this piece of paper alone which has held me back in the past, now the plans are activated, and you, not one of you can stop it; it’s been over for at least a year. I can’t help but fall into the mist of this death. it’s over today.
it’s over today.

2004-04-05T17:50:00.004-04:00

Unlocked doors, turned down lights
Several men there, standing in white
I see their eyes, and they all meet mine.
Thus, I know, it's time to die
Burning bridges, drowning brides
A message in a bottle shattered by the tides
I'm forced to open, and stand there naked
My legs down to the bones, it's all shaking
I've got no where to hide

I'll hold my breath. They'll go away.
I'll do anything just to delay
The inevitable
To me, you're still incredible

Searing needles stick into my spine.
Taking away all the memories that were once mine
I know my answers. I know their inquisitive lines.
They say it's okay, I know they're lying.
They show me a mirror, all I see is my eyes
And a bitter memory of all the tears they've cried
I'm forced back into the real world to keep faking
Now I see I'm molding clay, but I can't tell what I'm making
I've got nothing left to hide

And I've got nothing else to give; you've taken away
My everything and left me here to die with nothing.
But, to me, you're still incredible.

2004-04-05T17:50:00.003-04:00

I need an easy friend, I need someone bland.
Nobody in particular, just a good liar like me
So I can tell everybody all our cool stories

I want to feel shallow and I want to be hollow.
I want to blend with the in-crowd.
I wanna listen to their music turned up real loud.
Make me feel used, turn me into your toy.
Never tell me the truth, just show me your joy.

And leave me here, laying on my bed
Alone in my head, with time to reflect
And I fit in; I belong to your crowd.
I’m assimilated; I think I’m cool now.

I wanna be white, and think that I’m black.
I want all the hot chicks when I run track.
I wanna smoke, and I wanna drink.
I want someone to always tell me what to think.

I wanna be an asshole, I wanna be a hater
I wanna make people cut themselves with their rusty razors.
Coz they’re ugly, and boring,
and they don’t know how to dress.
They think too hard, and have bad friends.
Everyone tells me they’re useless.

I wanna laugh at all the punks and those boring emo-things.
I’ll only listen to Saliva, and Eminem and everything in between.
Coz I’m cool now, and I can be sedated.
I can’t wear these jeans, they aren’t pre-faded.
And my rugby shirt, the stripes gotta be big.
If I don’t shop at Abercrombie, that means my daddy drives a rig.
And that’s really bad, coz my parents are really corporate tools.
And they’ll do anything to please me and keep me in school.
So I can go to college, drink, and be just like them.
I can’t wait until I’m graduating.

I can’t wait to become a bigger tool!

2004-04-05T17:50:00.002-04:00

Missing the influence of some other’s dream.
I’m calling out to my pain by name.
Since thee night that I fell to my knees and began to scream
Things have never really been the same.
Soon my fingers turn to blue from overexposure to the residue
That seeps out from the photos that I still keep of you.
And now you’re giving me motions waving me to come near.
Just days ago, I had never wandered so far away from here.
But now I know that there was a reason for this encounter
I scream out your name to the clock by my bed every living hour.
It seems every sentence I write ends with you.
It seems somewhere there’s a secret that I never knew.
And you is not a person I can live with.
You is not someone I can comprehend.
And these mistakes are just something unfortunate
Something required to be made.
And now I’m drowning, holding a picture of a girl named you.
And the color in her eyes is beginning to fade.

2004-04-05T17:50:00.001-04:00

I don’t know where I am going, and I don’t know what I am doing.
Am I really fake? Am I really the thing it is I hate?
When so many questions come, I just can’t find the answers.
And I pray for this suicide to overtake my mind.
Leave my body behind, and drift away on the waves of time.

And she hears me cry.
But she doesn’t care, she’s only concerned with what is right there.
And that’s a shame, because when it comes time to blame, it can all be pushed onto her.
Appears these foggy windows, decked with lies
And just within them, here am I.
I hold back feelings deep inside, because now I realize my eyes are far too dry for me to cry.
Violence, frustration, disappointment, frustration.
And I pray for this suicide to overtake my mind.
Leave my body behind, and drift away on the waves of time.

Didn’t leave it up to you. Didn’t take it away from you.
If I had the chance to choose, I would obliterate you.
Violence, frustration, disappointment, frustration.
And I pray for this suicide to overtake my mind.
Leave my body behind, and drift away on the waves of time.

When are you going to see everything has turned its back on you?
When will the time come when god has chosen you?
I sit and wait for that time, where everything you said will be proved a lie.
I sit and wait for the time, when you’ll fall to your knees, shrivel up and die.
You need some attention, recollection of the hope that once constantly carried you.
But you get nothing because no body here cares for you.
You’re a liar, a fraud, a leech, and you’re nearly anti-god.
You’re everything that I contradict, and I am here to inflict every pain and grievance until you give up and leave it, alone.

2004-04-05T17:50:00.000-04:00

I have a fear of falling
plan of stoppage and stalling
never works always fails
constantly following
never ending paper trails
and the burden’s begun breathing
I can’t stand to see it stop
but it can’t go on
people say you are wrong
(take your freak-show underground)
finally these fingers break the surface
render this fractured mind worthless

I won’t look over the edge
but I can’t watch the freak-show end
so old things can never begin anew
I’m afraid of falling
even for you

2004-04-05T17:49:00.004-04:00

An effervescent glow has overtaken the walls of my room. I’m re-watching all the videos I made with you. To see your smiling face again makes me dream the world is worse than it has ever been. You are laughing at me on the television screen and I smile. I have not seen you look that way in such a very long while.

2004-04-05T17:49:00.003-04:00

“Degradation of your fame”; everyday, you make this claim. But your arguments make no sense. Your explanations prove useless. Like the cracks reigning through this window set on a slight crescendo. It’s been proven that it’s preferred your eyes to remain black and your lips to remain sealed and your bleeding wounds never to heal. They deem clarification to be thrown on the fire and burned like a martyr said to be in sin. And it’s things like this that make me wonder what god really is. And it’s times like this I wonder really where it is I am.

2004-04-05T17:49:00.002-04:00

I’m worrying that maybe the song she was singing was meant to have some meaning to me.
it’s bitter lyrics took bites at my insides and caused grief and pain through the screaming.
I don’t know. I’ve been numb. it’s hard to care for this long.
so tomorrow brings another day, another way to get back to her house, in her room, I will be there soon.
subliminal messages bring back memories of when I was a little kid and the world didn’t seem half as grim as it does now.
the skies look bleak like her eyes on that night when she kissed me goodbye for the last time. I had to scream, I couldn’t help it. it was there, I had to let it out.
I don’t know. I’ve been numb. it’s hard to care for this long.
you gotta know the way I go is based on the way she pushes me.
and she pushes me away from here where she hides her face.

2004-04-05T17:49:00.001-04:00

I’d fight you if I had a name
I’d fight if I had a cause I could fight for
I’d fight you if I had a choice
I’d fight like I never fought before
Send me on a mission
I wanna go underground
I can really be secretive
I’ll kill a man without making a sound
You can’t see me
I’m a shadow across the floor and on your back
I know you could hear me
If I screamed out my passion as I was slicing your neck

I’m silent and deadly, I’m an a-bomb
I’ll drop it if you dare
I’ll kill a thousand innocents
And declare it only fair
Puncture my side,
But I have no weak spots
I don’t need these limbs, they’re useless
If I could I’d rip them all off

2004-04-05T17:49:00.000-04:00

How long have I been married to my pain.
You can strike and strike, but I’ll never come back again.
You’re turning your eyes onto me, to attract the scent.
As it turns your nostrils, and fills you full
You white away the memories and deny the symmetries
And leave me in this mask of wool
I’d listen to your life’s story at least a thousand times
If you could open your heart to an enemy
But playing these games with our minds is tiring
I hope you don’t truly realize what you’re doing to me
Burn these questions into the palm of my hand
I trace your name out in the sand
And in a way, it acts as a megaphone
To the world
Announcing to all that I am unbalanced and alone.

My clothes were damp
And your skirt was tight
Sweet memories still remain
Of that night
That we spent unalone, welcomed in a family
An Ireland in a bar, that could never be more kind.
Like a commune I was accepted,
yet like a lame horse, still rejected
we went out to sit in the car,
project these words for a while
in my mind, I remember it as a bloody war trial
we are both the accused
we are both the accuser
when you got out and walked away
I’ve never felt more like the loser
I am..
I never touched you,
You swore you didn’t really like that
I never meant to hurt you
You had this planned, you set this trap

2004-04-05T17:48:00.005-04:00

Even when we laugh together, I still feel left out.
I’d find an answer to my every question,
I’d leave you here if I knew how.
I’m just another silent boy who never learned his lesson.
And all this time, I’m counting heads.
You’ve replaced your eyes with speckled glass.
And they sparkle, I’m lost and can’t seem to look away
It’s not like you want me to, anyway.
You like the attention.
But you hate the aggression.
You’re afraid of confessing
what’s gone wrong with your passed.
You’re hiding everything
But your name
In that satchel you keep in your room.
I’m gonna steal it sometime soon
And I’ll know all your secrets
Some that I wanted
And others I fear
But you don’t care
you hate the aggression.
You’re afraid of confessing
what’s gone wrong with your passed.
And that’s the reason that Jesus could never last.

2004-04-05T17:48:00.004-04:00

tonight, I find myself stuck inside my bedroom and I’m looking at old pictures and thinking of the presence of the feeling I miss her. seems everybody here is in agreement with me. perhaps that’s the reason I can’t find anyone to talk to coz everyone I do isn’t really here. I’m lying on the rug trying to find my eyelids so I can temporarily leave this life without a purpose just to come back to it a few hours later. I see a photo of the sunset over a scene that I regret and a memory I won’t soon forget and a situation I involuntarily left.
all this time I’m fingering the letters I never sent her from those nights when I imagined we were together in the coffee shop or at her house or mine, it doesn’t make much difference; it was all based on my ignorance anyway. then I pass away into the smoke of a dream that seems too real to be a fakery, but I know it is, but I still wish it weren’t like this, I wish the real world were the dream and I had just woke up. things are so much less complicated now, in my dreams.
I just need to get over my problems and get these plans started. I need to put some tissue paper to fill the space where my heart really is coz in a week or two it will be traveling the city with you. you’re everywhere at once, except here with me, where we both know you should be. you say that I don’t love you and that I should know it, but it’s nothing like that here in the place where I’m at. maybe where you are you can’t have dreams, make love, or even laugh, but that’s just where you are. and maybe you will leave and come spend some time with me. so you think after all that you’ve pushed me into and through, leaving bits of me behind, that I’ll just turn around shake your hand goodbye, but you must be out of your mind, coz things can never be that way again, not that they’ve ever been. I know the source of your lines, the source of this philosophy, I know the maker of these excuses and I often see him sitting next to me, but after tonight, no more. I will no longer speak to that man. it’s hard to explain where exactly I am, here in between these feelings of disgrace, love and hate, no, I don’t know where I am, but I’m no where with that man.

2004-04-05T17:48:00.003-04:00

I'm just a stupid boy with stupid ideas, worthless ones about relationships with other people like you or me. I don’t have any idea what my intentions were, I guess I was just looking to score. but it always seemed to mean a little more like fresh baked cookies straight from my gut, as they hit the porcelain, I think “oh its just happening again” no big deal to me if I can’t keep this food down, or if I can’t think in straight lines. no big deal to anyone if I’m the one who makes the decisions or not. well it’s winter again, and another year has passed, taking so many things like memories down the pipes with it. and I let my music echo through this house as I sit and stare at the wall for an hour or two then I shift my gaze to a picture of you, but I’m no where to be seen, you’re out partying. yes, I remember that night very quite well, I slept 12 hours into the morning.

2004-04-05T17:48:00.002-04:00

The night is open and I can’t seem to find peace
on a park bench, I’m “homeless” to say the least
the problem stretches further than the eye can see
I’ve trained myself just not to give a damn
this cold heartless heartbreaker is who I am.
if this is how you spend your nights now,
drinking the cold off your back,
then I bet you’re a bore when you’re sober
crying and all, it’s just how our type act
Screaming “it’s over…”

So this is what honesty is…

I’ve taken to smoking, not a drinker, not a man.
the amount of pressure you launch is more than I can stand.
I remain standing out here, alone at your front door.
curled in a ball, wishing to settle the score
If the last thing you do is to call me worthless.
then you deem all my efforts pointless.
well, I don’ know why I do this.
you’ve overtaken my mind.
I’ve never felt a love of this kind.
it’s like when I was ten years old,
I hated all the girls.
I hated them because I knew they didn’t like me.
they thought I was ugly.
Nobody trusted me.
Nobody loved me.
and then add the fact that
you act like you were into me
it made things work a little differently
I let my guard down.
I let you slip in through the back door,
and you ripped out my heart
with your solid glass eyes
you wouldn’t give it back
no matter how hard I tried.
And the major mistake
I made
was letting someone get to me
I let you into me
I swore to never let it happen again
but now after it’s been such a long time
and my soul’s had time to unwind
I’m letting it happen again
you’re empty shoes are finally being taken
and you’ll never be half the woman that she is.
you never gave half the effort she gives.

So this is what honesty is…

This is my last cry out to you.
And I never meant to leave you like this
And whatever you do, remember you had me
in the palm of your hand. in the grasp of your eye
I made mistakes, you made mistakes
I did what it takes to win a girl back
You refused the calling
And now your picture’s falling down.

So this is what honesty is…

2004-04-05T17:48:00.001-04:00

she’s got that nice thin curving body and that smooth blonde hair.
she speaks like she’s in no a hurry and sets fire on the air.
she wears her jeans too low and her shirts too tight.
daddy did a good job, raised her up just right.
but now it’s time to hand her over
to that boy she calls her lover and let him fuck her all night.
she’s got lots of worthless friends and a self-esteem problem.
but now she’s got a man to whom she can hand all them.
he walks real slow and he’s got a nice strut.
he’s got a fat wallet coz his daddy fills it up.
he’s cool yeah.
he’ll cool off her fire, and destroy her desire
and fill that small hole between her legs.
in a couple of years she’ll be nursing their twins
and tonight he’ll fuck her again.
says he wants more kids.
she’s fallen into something lasting
but she knows it’s lacking in the passion
that she dreamed of as a little girl.
he catches her lying and leaves her in their room crying.
that night she took the shot to end the world.

2004-04-05T17:48:00.000-04:00

it’s getting colder and I’m feeling used
as we’re getting older I’m more or less being abused.
and she’s not understanding the plot of this scene
but she knows everything in between here and the ending
and I’m not sure if I like the plot of this scene
I’m not feeling the emotion, I can’t be pressured
to think a misconception or to follow through on my demise
it’s getting old now. don’t you think you should stop?
just get out of here; I don’t want to see your pouting face anymore

2004-04-05T17:47:00.003-04:00

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that love is a four letter word

2004-04-05T17:47:00.002-04:00

I’m filling in these holes that have been entrusted to me.
I’m taking my time shoveling the ground back into its place.
two tablets of morphine, I’m slipping again.
I’m slowly making my dive from grace.
two tablets of morphine, and I’m slipping again.
they push their weight around in areas they do not know.
they break barriers not meant to break, and they don’t understand.
to them I’m a plush toy, new and ready for abuse.
two tablets of morphine and I’m slipping again.
I’m filling in their graves, nameless, and cold.
I rival their mistakes and wait for the day when I grow old enough to fly.
two tablets of morphine and I’m slipping again.
find my head, shoved inside the gas stove.
the knobs turned up, the whole kitchen’s ready to explode.
they’ve made up their own numbers to call them lies.
I’ve found pillow cases used to muffle victims’ cries.
it’s a single sheet to cover up this hundred page conspiracy.
two tablets of morphine, and I’m slipping again.
two tablets of morphine, and I’m given my nameless grave to call home.
it’s the warmest place I’ve been in since the day she left and these cold dreams came.
and I’ve got to let you know how much I enjoyed dieing.
two tablets of morphine and I’m nameless again.

2004-04-05T17:47:00.001-04:00

So you’re giving up, you’re giving in, letting me win.
Now I control everything.
I can run, i can leave,
but I’ll always wear your ring,
you know the one that turns my finger green.
It acts like a picture or a noose
A ratchet that reminds me of my use.
and I’ll never forget you…

So don’t worry that I hate you,
Don’t worry that you did something wrong.
Don’t think that you’re the whole reason
That made me sing this song.

you’re perfect in my eyes
and that’s what caused this crisis
my mind’s shut down emotion
and I don’t know how to fight this
I’m seeing everything within the vein of reverse
it’s like I’m in a different universe
I suffer from these mental wounds
That cannot be nursed

the lights shine through their dance
but there’s a hole in this mind
it sucks up every second chance
that I once called mine
and all this time you’re falling
away from me into this whole.
this time I won’t be perceived
as the world’s nickel whore.
I grab hold of your hand
and we slide into the past
I don’t know where we’re going
but we’re falling fast.

2004-04-05T17:47:00.000-04:00

The only thing that holds her back from me
Is the possibility
That there’s something to her I can’t be
It’s not easy when you’re being told no
Things didn’t turn out like I intended them to go
Tie me to a brick and give me the punishment
Deserving of this crime I’ve committed

How could I be so cruel
To let things turn out like this for her
My attempts to make her happy
In the end turned her onto this liquor

2004-04-05T17:46:00.004-04:00

“Indifferent Girl”
there’s this girl that I know, and she is indifferent to me.
I stare at her for long periods before anyone else notices
and I know it’s kinda weird.
plastic snow fills the windows of the hip hangout where I was
she is oblivious to the world outside enough
that I sat down next to her and said hello
she finally looked at me
she’s everything I thought she was…
now she’s wearing my glasses
and everything might be okay.
but one day, a few months later, we’re sitting at the same table in that hip hangout and it’s not all it used to be, but it still means the world to me.
she’s not up to smiling and her lips don’t take to kissing
she isn’t talking but I’m still here listening.
then she got up and walked away
leaving me
sitting here with nothing to do
I look around and see all the staring eyes fixated on me
I think she made a scene.
I walk home to the sunset and go up to my room to forget the events of the day
and everyway I thought it would work out, but they all involved me opening my mouth.
and that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.
there’s this indifferent girl sitting across the room from me.
even though she’s ignoring my every move, she still means the world to me.

2004-04-05T17:46:00.003-04:00

I’m here. You’re not. I want to lose myself in this air. Cut me off. Too late, it’s been done. I’m lost and you will never find me. You won’t even try to find me (please prove me wrong, it’d be the greatest feeling), so I don’t have to even hide myself. I thought I knew how things were, but not until after that night, after those letters, after that call. I never had a clue as to what or who you are.

2004-04-05T17:46:00.002-04:00

“I Want It”
Wakes up every morning to the sound of her voice
wakes up every morning knowing he has no choice
he’s whipped like a bull; he knows he’s her tool
but he can’t do anything about it in his mind
finds himself pulling up her driveway,
they go to different schools, but he still takes her anyway
anywhere she wants to go
he’ll take her there and she knows this
yeah, she knows

he has a future as he sees and it lies with her
but he had real dreams, but now he don’t remember what they were
he’s so insecure that he has to do everything with her
or the world might leave him when he’s got his back turned
there’s a million others like her, but they just won’t do
it’s not the same when he utters the words “I love you”
I just wish he’d pick another, another girl to be his
coz the girl he’s got, I’ve been in love with for so long.
is it wrong of me to hope that everything will turn out wrong like me?
I wanna be her tool, you can’t understand and neither can he,
I want it, I want it, I want it.

2004-04-05T17:46:00.001-04:00

I wonder where I can find a rock so I can hide.
Hide from this universe and voices contrary to my lies.
But I can still feel the burning of our scars
Reminding us both of how really meaningless we are.
And I got your letter in the mail today
Said “it won’t be long and everything’s gonna be okay.”
I still remember the night we met.
And all those memories we swore to never forget.
But now you’ve got your own problems, say you don’t need mine.
(you) said: “I need you to get far away from here, that is, if you don’t mind.”
And every time I hear their song they titled “blue”
It reminds me how much I’ve missed you.
I still write my words down so I have proof.
So when my time comes, I’ve got nothing to lose.
And I still remember the night we met.
And all the memories we swore to never forget.

2004-04-05T17:46:00.000-04:00

feeling disturbing.
taking a bottle and smashing it into my head.
feeling lonely.
taking back all the words that i may have said.
and someday,
maybe we'll find all the papers that we lost.
someday,
maybe we'll find ourselves upon that cross.
and it doesn’t mind the interests of some different admirers.
but if it did, would it really have mattered?

steal me, burn me, pick me up and wipe me off.
feel me, learn me, lower me and stand me up.

and it does no harm,
to figure out what we're doing.
but does it alarm you
to know that we are losing?
segments of our lives:
wiped away in the fire.
receiving your grievances
through this tapped telephone wire.
inserted into the back of my head,
keeps us connected.
forewarning me of times
I’ll be rejected.

steal me, burn me, pick me up and wipe me off.
feel me, learn me, lower me and stand me up.

does it burn into your head…
those times you set the air afire?
I was used, abused, and made into a liar.
and I won’t, I can’t, I refuse to let you go.
you didn’t, you don’t and you won’t ever know
the shit dealt to my hand
sticking around this hole with you
you won’t see
everything
that I’ve seen and been through.
because you’re not alive…

2004-04-05T17:45:00.004-04:00

I’m dreaming
and I’m seeing everything
through the eyes of a violent friend.
He was kind in his soul but not at the end.
He screamed…

“Is all that I see everything I was meant to be?
Is this the end, of me?

And he made a motion
and moved his feet close to the ledge
He took a quick look.
Peering over the edge,
He screamed…

“Is this the end, of me?
Is all that I see everything I was meant to be?
Is this the end, of me?”

He lost his mind and made it up.
He took the dive because he had had enough.
Now I can’t see anything below his chest,
and he is still screaming

Is this the end, of me?”
Is all that I see everything I was meant to be?
Is this the end, of me?”

This was all my fault…

2004-04-05T17:45:00.003-04:00

“Of the million things you ‘had to say’, you’d think ‘sorry’ just might have found its way in their somehow, someway.”
“Regardless of if my pictures still line your mirror; you know that I’ll still wait for your call…”
(Does this make me look childish?)
When you’re finished reading this all, will you still see me the same way? Will I be anything more to you or anything less (as if it is possible)?
There’s only one thing I ever really have asked from you: as long as you’re around, just don’t let me down. Hopes are high and esteem is low. It’s depressing; I doubt you noticed (and it hurts out of your league). I doubt you even care.
(You’re making me feel small)
Got to see you last week, hope to see you again. I need more moments to ask “remember when?” I need more substance; I need you to feel close so I can know how you feel. I’m miserable, and you’re never going to get started.
(Does this make me look childish?)
It’s all broken up into tiny fragments which can barely be put together and recognized. But, I love the way you nod and roll your eyes as you try to tell exactly what it is I’m saying. “Let’s just get this over with.”

2004-04-05T17:45:00.002-04:00

Coca-Cola
carbonated water, water with a zing. I need a way to make it right.
I need a way to get a hold of you and bring you back tonight.
high fructose corn syrup, I know you don’t give a fuck.
but, I gotta give it a shot; your the only thing I got.
caramel color, making the situation its dark shade I cant see through.
phosphoric acid, leaving me feeling placid, while looking at old pictures of you.
Coca-Cola, the drink of the famous. Coca-Cola, the drink of the shameless.
Coca-Cola, you’re everything, you’re everything to me.
Caffeine, it makes me remember, (caffeine) last December.
(when we) made a bet, “who could be the first to forget, this situation that we have”
Natural Flavors, you’re my savior, you make it all seem worth it.
you’re the thing that makes this old shirt always fit.
you’re uncomfortable around me, I can tell.
you say you feel sick, but you seem well.
you’re always that pale; you just want me to fail.
Coca-Cola, you’re that night in my spring.
Coca-Cola, I never know, what it is you’ll bring.

2004-04-05T17:45:00.001-04:00

break go the days and they become whispers in the back of my head
telling me what to do
they go to static, and I turn emphatic, I turn them to dust and no one knew
heart-attack, taking over my chest, reminding me I am owed less
for these misfortunes that they bring on me
and it grows numb, I can’t see. everything has gone black as night.
and we break making our move in an attempt to lose ourselves in the truth.
and we make it back for my 18th birthday party.
they’re all cheering, but they can’t see anything, it’s just dust.
and the candles burn down to the cake which, by now, is turning to something sick
something I can’t eat, something worthless like this life.
and my gifts, all I got was silly putty and it was wrapped in newspaper
from the day one gave birth to her, reminding me of nightmares I had
it’s been nothing but hell, nothing but skin
nothing but pleasure, but really I’ve been faking
something she whispers tears apart my insides
there’s nothing left for me to hide.
it’s eating away at my lies, making them truths
making them a trap, I can’t escape, I’ve been snared
it’s the modesties, like cutting my hair.
I’m burning, I’m nothing, I can’t feel anything, but my fears
that’s all that’s here.