colossus

and so it is unsettling. to be at one with such a monster that shares this space. a monster that I've known for far too long. he and I have become close, to my unease of course. but i couldn't bear to ignore the lust that goes on in my self when this monster swells inside my being. this hollow shell of a body that i've come to occupy is nothing more than a vessel to deliver disappointment and hatred, or rather inspire it within others.

when an act is said and done however,
i do no more than shake hands with him
and wink.

no one understands this villainous phoenix.
burning brightly to explode in a murderous flash.
born again slowly from the ashes of memories.
i won't pretend to.

this beast is a demon that I hate, but can't help but be overcome by. and when it does shake my morality and cover me in a repulsive abhorrent veil...i'm swallowed. i become something i would never intend to be or wish upon anyone.

let it wash over me, it's the only way to survive. let me become the beast.

?

I can't pretend that I didn't do it. Obviously, I did as it's staring me in the face. But I had to do it. Everyone needs light in life. Everyone needs that unmatchable feeling of illumination. To be cast out of shadow and live in the energy beating down on your face. So, I stole it. It's not like anyone's going to miss it, there are plenty. People may question my motives and maybe deem me as less than the rest. Like somehow, I'm less of a human being for stealing. If anything, I believe thievery makes one more human.

It's something we all have, yet most of us choose to pretend to be better than what we really are. All of us play this charade that we're upstanding human beings who want peace and crave a hand holding across the globe. The truth of the matter is that no quicker than a dog runs to a bag of dog food do we want to see a person die. We make it socially unacceptable to murder, but it runs in our blood. It's pouring through our very veins. Through your veins as you read this. You may think to yourself: "No. I could never do that." But you don't have to pretend for me or for yourself or anyone else. Take two seconds and dwell within your inner self. You know deep down that you're a killer. You're a murderer. It's buried deep within us, instinctually.

When no one is looking, you love it. You live in that underlying instinctual self. Your eyebrows furrow and social yes and no's fly out the window. And you can't tell me that it doesn't feel...phenomenal... to be your true self. To be what you were born to be. Human beings have this concept planted deep within their consciousness from the beginning of their physical lives that they are not to steal, kill, etc. Were there no government, no one patrolling the streets, I think we would all do what we had to do to survive pretty quickly.

This brings me to another point. What is the point of surviving? What is our end game? So we keep the human race around for another couple thousand years. Then what? We achieve nothing more than we have in the past 2000? Only recently have we jumped ahead and found all this science and electronic know-how. But where did it all come from? Why did it appear out of nowhere after thousands of years of nothing. Stone buildings, simple machinery.

A mere 200 years ago we were curing sicknesses by sucking the blood out of the ill. We went from dumb as rocks to advanced technological people who can wire circuit boards no bigger than your thumb nail and watch full movies on a screen that fits in your pocket. Where did we come from? Why are we here? What have we done as murderous primitive beings to deserve such blessings? Is there a God? Or were we created by way of genetic mutation and simply deemed our creator who had the knowledge of such mutation as a God who traveled through space from planet to planet?

I'd like to know.

Volcano

Volcano

a thought.

Mankind is the ugliest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to lay my desperate eyes on. We have the capacity to destroy each other with no hesitation. But what really keeps me from chastising humanity is what follows. The remorse and guilt and pain and suffering. The emotional range that we’re allowed and are capable of feeling is gorgeous, and I won’t ever abandon that.

I am fully and completely in love with the human condition.

hollow feathers

words don't cut it anymore. i find myself always at a loss. and that makes me unbearably saddened. something so beautiful, so strong, and so genuine has now become something that i'm incapable of expressing. the patience of the outside world is limited and the inside world is utterly confining. a convention of unbearable feelings is left to take the place of once held emotions. left to swirl around the vacuum that Nothing calls home. but what does one do when feelings aren't able to be translated? what happens when your most familiar ability is broken into pieces and scattered around the blood stained floor? a now fleeting comprehension is cracked and old. and staring at a flashing cursor leaves me...helpless. helpless to my own condition and that of others. unable to express my unconditional need to accept and listen, i am the vacuum.
there are colors that meet in the middle. thoughts and theories and feelings all blend together in a gorgeous soliloquy of understanding, rocketing skyward to meet what we all know or have known at a single point. these colors are dripping of each other now. they are seeping through the walls and leaving me distraught, fragmented, and colorblind.

and so, having been locked into the eyes of an individual so trance-inducing, i dive headfirst and headstrong. hoping to break the surface and breathe in absolute clarity. the water i'm sure has other plans. regardless, i dive.

when it's late,

don't stop looking
when my eyes turn to glass.

Annie, I will make it.

hush.

this dark deafening emancipative loneliness is what i can frequently smell, but can never taste. the gates are lifted when the cratered moon takes its fluid path along the starry sky, and the freedom rushes through like a flood. in what was once occupied by only air molecules, emotion now drowns my heart. like an empty cup suddenly and unforeseeably being rushed with a synthetic juice.

something of a darker tint. something that resembles blood, but lacks that crucial and vital iron sensation that attaches to one's tongue. that pure human taste. it's unmistakable, and unforgettable.

lately i've been existing only for this taste and these dark shadowy hours. it is the only break i can find from the complexities and melancholic waves of day to day responsibilities and conversations. to pretend i exist for anything otherwise would be borderline slanderous.

and so in sunlight, emotional colorblindness sets in.

but beneath baptismal beams of moonlight...under the immense and unfathomable star stricken sky, my pupils dilate and primal instincts get flipped on.

awake. alive. placid. revived.

bullet proof.

I don't know how to start this. sitting, trapped in a corner. Surrounded. surrounded and suffocated by clouded and spotted glass. not the white spots from a shaken tooth brush or missed windex. but the spots from something long forsaken.

a glass coffin. 4 inches thick, as dry as the sand in this desert you call a reality. how terribly tempting it is to kick violently and scream in all directions in an attempt to shatter these walls. but I sit. I'm quiet. I breathe, and I exhale with no purpose or meaning.

but soon I'm not the only one flooding this cage. soon my feet are the first to meet this new visitor.
as the day lurches on and the bright radiant sun makes its pilgrimage across the clouded sky, the tank is swimming.
& I'm beginning to do the same.

not drowning, but sitting. quietly. breathing in, and exhaling.
all the while a cold and dark wave crawls over my spine, and creeps over my shoulders. wraps and surrounds me like a blanket. warm. secure.

and as the sun goes down, the tank is full. the tank is full, just like my lungs. this is the only certainty I've ever had. and I'm in this coffin.
I'm staying alive in the pitch black. eyes cascaded with nothing but personal thoughts, and spots on the glass.

and so I sit, quietly. breathing in and exhaling with no purpose.

boom.

it wasn't that i was incapable of understanding what it is that i am comprised of. it isn't that i was blinded from my wheels and mechanisms. i just had to sit and stare. breathe and balance. open and ostensibly let it seep out.

and so since saying simple things to weary eyed wanderers, my eyes have blasted open to become more aware of what your world has to convey to this dreamer. in step, epiphany has crept into my wrinkled thoughts and begun to emit beams of starch. flattening and developing thoughts of mine and your own.

with eyelids peeled open by an invisible & transcendent hunger to know, you and yourself create a whirlwind of some otherwise inglorious sight. an exquisite survey of a night sky painted and splattered across your conventional ceiling. billions of fiery detonations travel throughout your starry cosmos in a moment's blinding flash.

and this incandescent explosion of astronomical proportions is just...

butterflies.

just a thought.

I feel like I'm doing jumping jacks into a pitch black pool. Alternating from deep and warm enveloping air, to stinging and freezing water teeming with abandonment.

Lazarus

WAKE UP.

and I did.
my eyelids peeled open like the skin of a fruit. peeling skin like a dead layer of scorched earth. stretching and snapping. awoken from the deepest sleep you've ever fallen into.
raised again like Lazarus from the dead, eyes struggling to focus while the light pours into pupils like a mouthful of blood washed down the drain.
catapulting straight up and finding yourself in a ninety degree angle, arms outstreched grasping for a whisp of vanishing sanity. evaporating like smoke from my mouth. from your mouth.

tack up. bleed dry. left empty.

a quote

"That song kind of flows all over the place with different ideas, but the main idea being rebirth and rebuilding and taking a well needed bath, you know? i did a little it of that in the last year & it's great to clear your head, get rid of everything, then you realize normally you can only see like ten feet in front of you because the fog is so dense of all the chemicals in your mind once you clear it all away & you can see forever then you immediately get scared and realize why you take all of those things all the time. it's good to at least visit that once in a while, clarity." -Conor Oberst

for you, great youth.

why on this tiny little planet do i care? what about this name keeps my stomach twisting and my mind conscious until early morning hours?

and to preach in secret to a nocturnal choir. a group of individuals clad in dark clothing supporting my lofty ideas. "hallelujah" they'll say and at once everyone understands. rushing to spit words into the microphone, to feed knowledge.

commandeering wavelengths and high-jacking frequencies that dig into your brain so deep that you'll never be able to shut your eyes again. you'll just come pouring out of your room and bury your head into my neck, tears rolling down like fresh rain drops on a window pane.

and to Jack, who i once wanted to be in an instant, i scream that i am a writer.

and to me, Jack understands, and applauds. the whole room rises to their feet as my palms begin to sweat. deeply rooted like the firmly stationed podium…i can sway but never topple. and erupting, the room splatters applause against the white walls, like an artistic depiction of a one way ticket to everywhere.

harmony

trains traversing America
the station's home for the because
the outbound line is a catalyst, for change

with your feet planted firmly on the floor, palms turned up to face the lord
make it a crazy one cause you know he's bored, today.

feigning interest in the music man,
the fire's out..will it come again?
I can't waste my time askin when & where, hooray.

so give..me..white lines
gimme sunshine rain and how
you plan to keep this chain unbound,
Friend.

my father won't be a happy man
when he learns of what I've done again
burying his face into his weathered hands, the tears

so you dig your grave & you step inside
you're feelin dead but not quite enough to die.
When you finally lay down I hope you fly, away.

when the sunflower turns to face the sun, he realizes what he's done
he steps from the flower and he is born, again.

web it tapers off and you're left confused, standing there don't know what to do
when the stalk is strong and the petals bloom, she says

so you ask for pain cause you like it now, you get set up to be let down
It's a cycle here that you have found, run away

like a museum piece in artificial light, in a glass case you've given up the fight
just sleep it away as they stop and point, you play.

the loft

i've made plans before.

i've made plenty of well orchestrated and thought out events that play over and over in my head like a bumped-into-compact-disc. but while sitting in this darkened box of a living space, i remember plastic smiles. glimmering teeth burned into my memory somewhere between:

a. the need to pay the rent,

and

b. my first girlfriend.

dinners played out on sunday evenings. fine china winking under heavy light living in the ceiling. china that shines like it has a secret that you'll never know.

wooden floorboards so frequently trafficked, intelligent feet can go undetected.

and these nights are the nights i miss the most.

in a bench supposedly filled with chlorine, tablets, and other cleansing materials

we stored guns and ammunition.

we stored hope and childhood.

we stored happiness and shelter.

and now i've reached the first shelf of this great climb, and i've found that these are the memories you share at dinner. these memories are why family gather. and so we gather. and so we share.

and we are family.

in their darkest dreams.

I can't see you. I can't hear you. But I know you're alive. It's comforting to feel you dwelling in the darkest part of me. To know that you exist keeps my thoughts active and my mind wandering. You should know this isn't easy for me.
And we drain our necks in poetic fashion.
Still, the waves of blue are born to beat back the waves of red. Waves that drown us and haphazardly draw our eyes up to fall into an...evil stare.

What is this?

I now find myself feigning these emotions, and I cannot help it. But I like it.

And you won't ever know.

you can't force it. you can't threaten the spring to come and melt the ice and snow. for that pond to return to messy liquid, you have to let it come.

you can't catch tears falling from sad sad eyes. you have to let them fall and soak the carpet. to stain the shag, just let it come.

and for what it's worth, this coffin is no longer a coffin. these cold dreams are nothing worth dwelling on but rather something to look back on.

emergency broadcast.

and what could it mean

when thoughts do careen

crooked hands placed over a narrow spine

and when fingers can tremble

shoulder blades resemble

crumbling walls, cellars of wine

in raising a glass

to remember the past

i can never recall the color of flames

to spill out the best

and be rid of the rest

for a lover to call me by the middle name of james.

while standing up straight

storms seem to abate

i could swear it's the semblance of lightening skies

but the eye of the storm

for which i was not warned

is the cause of light rain, and hollow deafening cries.

so a blanket to cover

and a head undiscovered

while lightning can flash and project shadows on walls

in a basement's precaution

flipped a light switch of option

to a cavernous thunder echoing down the halls.

tongue secrets.

I keep wanting something. I know not what it is, or where it comes from. I know not of what it ate for breakfast on the 24th of April when she was late for first period in 1996. I still don't know what color it's hair is, or how her eyes reflect in a placid pond, pondering all of her recent thoughts. Thoughts archived in a resevoir deep beneath your consciousness. But would I like to know? Would I like to spoil a surprise so ancient and preserved? So sliced readily and dashed with salt.

I feel as if I'm waiting for a dream. Waiting to exhale Not a dream to come and take me away, but to enlighten me of otherwise invisible things. Secrets. Things only whispered into the ears of lovers. Secrets.

goodnight.

I can feel it tonight. tonight feels like it has before. cool summer blowing through the trees. a hint in the wind that summer is dying and there's nothing I can do, but it's okay. I can close my eyes and breathe in through my nose, smelling what's left of a dying beast. and that's what fills my lungs: the death of something beautiful and freeing.

my leg muscles tighten as I'm flung along the highway. shiny automobiles with red tail lights that peer at me like a thousand sets of angry eyes.

it's a night like this one where I hear everything, and feel it all. and it makes me sick.

it's a night like this where I feel heavy enough to collapse under an invisible weight. a weight that makes my knees buckle and my heavy eyelids fall shut in a slower motion...a plead to sob, "no more".

and I just need to say goodbye.

college

at 1:23 all I hear is the distant ringing in my ears. a ringing that tells me my friends are moving far away from me. a ringing that tells me things I love or have loved are ending. it is a distant ringing, it is. watching two close friends contemplate their lives without each other is troubling. watching them make excuses that make it seem less painful is even worse. "we'll be home for thanksgiving." "we'll be home for christmas." where is the home when one starts fresh? what is a home, and where is my heart.

melting.

my cup of orange juice is so close to being dry. all i drink these days is orange this, berry that, and water. and liquor.

all in this empty infested apartment.

a dull light creeps from the corner of the room and gives different shadows to everything here. it's an odd thing to be the only living thing in this room.

there's a fan that doesn't have a low setting. a television. a piano. and a couch.

this is a living room, and i'm barely alive.

this place has yet to become my home.

i eat here. i sleep here. i shower here.

consequently, i live here. but this is no home of mine.

at this hour when the sun has deserted me, i do nothing but stare.

i stare at the absence of movement and the lack of sound.

and i'm frozen here.

the clocks refuse to tick and the lovely crater-layered moon pays no attention to this lackluster room. lounging about in what might as well be a still photograph.

but i don't care for myself as i devour coffee pots and apple cores. i care..

Glass Eyes: Shattered

With a Life to love, it's hard to find steady footing here with the floorboards creaking and cracking around me. Twiddling my thumbs while my heart tries to escape it's marrow confinement, it feels as if I'm just balancing here with a roof over my head as things really start to move. Wheels start to turn, dreams start to blossom, and glass eyes shatter into a thousand homesick pieces before I can even utter a single syllable.

Wrapped up and tucked in like a loved child, darkness penetrates everything here. My pupils glow and grow to the size of Jupiter. A single deep breath in and out as quickly as this all came rushing toward me, swept me off my feet, and left me dazed and classically confused on the old stained shag carpet. I wish you were here to feel this warm tile beneath my feet. It's a welcome breakfast addition, and a soothing midnight addiction. I could melt into the busted broken tainted kitchen tile with you.

Starlight.

And here I've found myself sitting straight up in bed on this Monday morning, long before daylight has bleached the open sky. I'm suffering from a certain degreee of insomnia, as my thoughts are leaking from me in the form of lazy sweat drops. I read in a book that short term memories are converted to long term memories during the REM cycle of sleep. I long for this cycle to take over my body, as I have memories that need converting.

I spent the night with the sun.

As my planet made a full rotation, I carresed the arms and legs of my celestial being. She and I filled the long night hours walking through and around a house made for kings. The night slowly disappeared and was replaced. There can be only one sun at a time in this solar system. On a couch made to treat patients, we patiently kept quiet waiting for the other planets to stop turning. Lifelessly laying, we retreated and kept the stars from other galaxies burning with lit secrets passing from mouth to ear and ear to heart. This heart doesn't always beat quickly, but when the sun lays her head across my chest..it makes an attempt to love her. It races around its cage and pounds harder than ever to make itself known to the starlight. Uncage this.

supernova

the heat has finally found me and my messy unkept Sunday hair. it's no ordinary heat though, it's that special kind of summer heat. the heat where even if you take your shirt off and jump in the clear water, you stick. this summer the sun and I have been getting closer and closer. we've been getting to know each other more and more, and I'm letting her inside. the only trouble is, the closer she and I get, the more I melt. it's great though to have someone that burns your skin from 92,955,800 miles away. I know that there are other planets circling her besides mine, but somehow I know that only my planet matters right now. what I would give to walk on her surface, or consume one of her stellar bursts.

this galactic anomaly has grabbed me by the heart and injected electromagnetic radiation into my hard-to-find-spider-web-veins. as my fingertips stretch outward toward her ultraviolet face like her very own solar spikes, my blinds are pulled up and my shutters slammed open.

i'm here beckoning the sunlight into my dilated pupils and hands and throat and heart.

and here I am bursting with sunshine.

enough light power and energy to make you happy, rummaging through my body and blasting outing of every orifice she can possibly find.

my skin begins to break and crack like a frozen pond disturbed by a foolish child, and I

explode to my heart's content. I've become what I have always loved.

I am heat light power energy stellar sunshine.

Am I

blue lips, blue veins

blue: the most human color.

translated:

And it dawned on me. It's all about translation. Everything you sing, breathe, talk, scream, and live about depends on a translated foundation. If something doesn't translate well, you have nothing. You're lost.

a familiar drive

Why would I throw my lifeless body into something that I've seen people die from? I find myself and others frequently convincing ourselves that we're a different story. It won't happen to us, because we aren't them. How foolish we can all be for that. Ragdolling down the countryside into what will surely be my end, my limbs flop and twist in undersirable contortions.


In my dreams, I wander. It's no different than what I do in my conscious state, but in my dreams I feel no shame. When I'm awake and answering questions I feel guilty that I don't know what I want. My dreams however leave me wandering down empty corridors. Aged pillars decaying and crumbling left and right as tiles crack under the weight of my indecision. Here it comes.

cringing.

i wasn't that star. i didn't explode. i still do laps around galaxies, but now they're not so close... they're farther away these days. watching the lives of others and their dreams falling all around them like dirty recycled los angeles rain drops. that water is thick like blood. blood that runs down steep palos verdes and beverly hills driveways into the gutters where we've all slept once or twice by now.

i want to know where you swim at night. what nebulas you frequent. which stars you love to watch explode. and most of all, what planets you want to destroy. i can help you decimate celestial beings. let me.

these songs that you've chosen for me are something deeper than i probably know. but my very thinking about that possibility leaves me wondering if they're meaningful at all or if they're simply melodic constructions held together by chicken scratched lyrics on loose leaf paper.

write me something scary.

write me something beautiful.

just don't stop writing me.

today is a day that's just like all the others. however, it's a day to remember in my book. today is the first day that i can breathe. and it feels good.

songs worth singing.

killing just to kill something,
just to remind me that i can.
i've lost my memories of faith
there are thoughts that i can't stand.
on being cast out of a house,
a palace on our sides
constructing corners, pleading coroners
a man caught me with my pride.

i've been throwing rocks at panes
but the windows have been wrong,
i've been missing all these nights
but i've learned the words to all the songs.

sing these songs.
please, sing along.

konfusion.

god i miss you.
there are so many words that i can string together to form sentences. so many things i want to convey to you, things that would take years to properly understand.

i just wish we could stand in that kitchen once more with your bare feet on that cold aged tile. i wish we could be quieter than the night. everyone else had gone to bed and we just stood there drinking water out of glasses. an uncooked pizza on the counter just begging to be shoved in the oven. you had been fighting earlier that night and you were drunk, but i knew you were there. you were there more than you had been sober. the alcohol on your breath spoke volumes to me. you had me punch-drunk.

nothing had to be said, and that was just okay. we could just look at each other and be. please understand.

of course you can.
of course you can.

avalon

and when i walked away, i didn’t look behind me. i knew you were there so there was no real point in making sure of what i was already certain of. i never thought i’d step foot in that house again, to be honest. that piano bench. that couch. we just sat there and talked to each other. just like it used to be. i passed over the threshold and saw you standing there. “shit” was one of the first five words out of your mouth. you looked so…at home. it made me feel that way. for the first time in a year and a half, you had your defenses down. you had no guard, and at first it scared me a little. but the more you looked at me out of the corner of your eye and the more we laughed, i felt better. there was something leaving both our skins at an alarming rate over those two hours. those two hours that dragged on and on. it was something that infiltrated the entire living room. somehow though, only the two of us were engulfed in what we let out.

nothing had to be said.

but i was grateful that movie was so long, because i hadn’t seen you as you in such a long long time.

and then i remembered you telling me that the more you saw me, the more you wanted me to stay. and how much that scared you. the end is coming, and you will split in half. i want to help when you need it. because i know you, and you will. “you’re the reason i love losing sleep” because i love you, and you will.

this is what it means to be loathed

i'm sure we've all made mistakes in our lives, and some pass by like chances that slip away from day to day, but some mistakes act as a marker in your life. some haunt you for what could very well be the rest of your godforsaken days. when you do something wrong, you can apologize and hopefully things will level out and the scales will find that zen-like balance again. but it's when you apologize, and nothing happens...that's when you have to drop down to your scraped knees and pray for something. i have done something terrible, and i fear that i'm only going to keep making these mistakes. and that scares the fuck out of me.

i wonder what hate letters and threats would do to someone who isn't me. i wonder what messages that scream loathesome details and wishes of loneliness and eternal unhappiness would do to someone that doesn't think things through to the smallest detail and act on reason. at this point, i think i could deal with the situation if i were the one who was betrayed. but i'm not. i'm the one who did it, and i have to live with that. i honestly think that my conscience lives inside my heart, and knows when i do something inconsiderate, or even mull it over in this infernal head of mine. it knows when i fuck someone over, do something untrustworthy...and it punishes me.

i would laugh if my life were any more like a movie. i would love to see everyone despise me, and cast glares at me. i would gladly catch it all. throw it.


careful what you wish for.

7x8

So I dig my toes into April
In an attempt to just hold on
While the waves of summer wash away
The sand castles we've been living on
We're left out in the open
Stranded here under the sun
Just to build those sand castles back up
Pack the dirt and fight, or is it run?

La da da da,
Just counting down the days
Twiddling my thumbs
And thinking about the ways,

It could have been.
It should have been.
It's done.

I'm so afraid of what's left
What sits here on my plate
These months I can't seem to stomach
These feelings I can't seem to shake.
I'm killing time for what it is
Exposed and baked under the sun
Coffee shops and long talks
I'm happy cause I'm alone.

and sometimes,

And sometimes when you're on
You're really fuckin' on
And your friends they sing along
And they love you
But the lows are so extreme
That the good seems fuckin' cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence
But you'll fight and you'll make it through
You'll fake it if you have to
And you'll show up for work with a smile
You'll be better
And you'll be smarter
And more grown up and a better daughter or son
And a real good friend
And you'll be awake
You'll be alert
You'll be positive though it hurts
And you'll laugh and embrace all your friends
And you'll be a real good listener
You'll be honest
You'll be brave
You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful
You'll be happy

and i drove.

i left school today to come home and take pills for my aching sore of a mouth. i left the house
and i drove.
i hopped in my '96 Honda Accord and hooked up my iPhone to act as an iPod like i always do. i threw it in reverse and checked for cars coming up the street or turning wildly around the corner. they always come around that corner like they're Speed Racer or something.

drive.

soon enough i'm barreling over grand st. and wouldn't you know it, the big blue diamond encrusted mass of salty water breaks over the hill. it splashes onto my eyes like the bright piece of jewelery glimmering over eastern snowy mountain tops. this is a sight i thought i would come to miss mere days ago. the way things are going though, it seems i'll be sticking around the sunbathed little state a little while longer.
a transfer program.
it would save us all money. i could take two years of Berklee certified classes here at Fullerton. but the idea of attending school there makes my stomach churn as if the heartbreak wasn't enough. it may be childish of me, but i don't want to go there. i want to go to Berklee. don't we all deserve to unleash our inner child every now and again?
i want to pout

scream
cry
run
sleep
die

"life isn't fair", they say. that is something that i've learned over the years, but that doesn't stop me from wanting otherwise. the next Berklee audition is in December, which means i would have to take summer school classes to fully catch up on what i need to learn in time. sometimes i think it's a shame i'm not more of a fighter. i could just join the army and be shipped in a box labled "handle with care". "this side up" it would say with the arrows pointing toward the ceiling of that stupid cargo jet.
sometimes when i unload my belongings from the '96 Honda Accord, and struggle with my metal things on metal rings, and open the door, and toss it all on the ground or the table... i see my cat. when those big ignorant eyes stare back at mine, i can't help but wish i was him.

nothing to worry about. people feed me. people bathe me. i bathe myself. people play with me. all i have to do is speak and they talk back to me. i don't even have to use words they understand. lie around belly up in the sun. smell this and that and just sleep for eternity.
that's what i could use. i could use some sleeping for eternity.
let's sleep.

recognition

this is what it means to taste misery. This deep copper that dyes my tongue a disgusting color. I can cleanse myself all I want but I know I'll always taste this metallic dissapointment. Sleeping without cotton swabs in my mouth is a terrible idea. There's nothing to soak up all the blood that pours in and down my esophagus.

I've never felt like we were equals, but now I know it for sure. It's so hard to accept that something I've clung to for years can be ripped away from my being like magic, with no trace. No remains. Only ruins are left in a wake that makes me feel like something less than human. Did I deserve this?

tuesday is coming

tuesday is coming.

tuesday is coming and i have no idea how to handle it. i hope to God that i get accepted to Berklee College of Music. i've been told though that whether i get in or not, it's not the end of the world. no matter how many times i hear that from someone else or let it drip out of my own head, i don't think i can avoid feeling crushed or lifted. obviously, i'm hoping for the latter but we shall see. i was told today that i had two ghost letters of reccomendation written for me and that people love my voice.

it's strange to imagine what people think of you when they've only known you for a short amount of time. you have known you for your entire life and you're completely aware of all of your flaws, even if the the scars aren't present anymore. these people though, they only know you for a short amount of time. they don't know who's heart you've broken, or how many promises you've broken, or how many sundays you've sat around and done nothing, or how many hours you've lounged around in a self loathing relationship with your own mind. it's a lucky thing that they don't know that part of you, because there would be a bit more to consider when accepting you to college.

i'm being dreadfully obvious, something i've always tried to avoid. but i can't help it in these times of introspection. i can feel my heart beating at a quickened pace. it reminds me of what it sounded like when i got my wisdom teeth out. they hooked me up to machinery so i could hear my own pulse.

it sang me to sleep

my own steady pulse is something i'll always have to keep to myself. my heart is something i've shared with a few people. they've felt it beat through the bone that traps it in like an animal in a cage. through the meat and muscle that surrounds it and houses it.

what does a heart sound like.
how does a heart beat.

edit.

so this is what it all comes down to huh? this is what i've been looking at in the mirror, what i've seen in the reflective glass of office buildings. this is what i've become.

a dimmer switch.

i'm the last trace of pain you feel that instant before you hit that epiphany. the one that tells you it will all be okay..that it's better this way. it happened for a reason.

i phase out slowly like nicotine fleeing from your body. i'm that steady concentrated dose helping you move on with your life and forget what was once flowing through your veins like a bloody substitute. i can't say i'm proud of my position as a patch, but "i am what i am."
this spiraling whirlwind of images dancing about in my head and forming a black hole in my stomach is something i don't think will ever leave, and i've come to accept that.
so the only thing i can do is reach in twist my arm. rattling my fingers around in my torso, reaching for some sort of origin. slipping and tripping over my intestines and holding my heart in a crushed and feeble hand.
there's no formula to this equation, but we'll all just keep trying.

sleeping beasts

please don't make an effort
i've got it under control
you see i'm used to being here
on the bottom of the ocean floor
treading through your thoughts
i keep my footsteps light
these patterns and seas of rhythm
are nothing in comparison to the score

one, love
keep your distance
two, love
i've got my resistance

the water's getting heavy
crushin from the pressure
living in this submarine
am i content, or should i ask for more?
and so i'm treading water
the temperature is warm
i watch the sun set in the east
and settle down with this sleeping beast, evermore

(what's the score?)


one, love
keep your distance
two, love
i've got my resistance

my dark passenger.

it's night, and i am desolate. the darkness is not pitch black to the point where nothing is recognizable, but just enough to be unable to discern shapes in the distance. as i wander through the haze that obstructs my vision, i take small light steps so as not to trip over anything making itself invisible to my feet. the grunge that surrounds me is a feeling i'm familiar with. it's something that has been with me and led me through my life for years now. it is my lies, my deceit, my harmful nature, and most of all my hate. it is a walkway that provides me with room to move, but at the same time it restricts my steps and keeps me confined on a path that only it knows the end to. i have struggled as hard as i possibly can for years to hold in whatever this grunge may be, and i have done a fairly good job. there are moments of weakness i expereince however, where it momentarily escapes in the form of a different character condemning those who deserve anything but. in a crowded room, this passenger is the entity that sleeps beneath the plastic incadescent smiles...the ones that are so fake they show every tooth in the mouth. the passenger is one that glides effortlessly through my heart and spins threaded thoughts that swamp my brain. it layers my mind and floats through it like a mist. though visible, it cannot be caught or contained and the only thing that you can do to survive it is to drive slowly and keep your brights off. this grunge...this passenger...i can only hope to subdue it for as long as possible.

Enough has been sleeping
And hiding behind me
Enough has been sneaking
And trying to blind me
But enough is enough

I can't let this beast lie any longer, and I certainly won't allow it to sleep at my feet. What was once and twice my trust, has become something that I should have seen weeks away. There it was speeding at me like a bullet train, and I had my lucky makeshift blindfold on, waiting to be led forward and put on the ground Indian style. This puzzle has always been missing a few pieces, and until now I had been looking for what I thought was lost. It just so happens that they were never lost...they just weren't ever there. I've spent years in vain searching for those ever elusive pieces of the blue sky that make this jigsaw complete. But now by some strange miracle, puzzle pieces come pouring out of my veins and I'm left to turn unidentifiable pieces over and search. One can never say if it's fully worth it to keep flipping over bits of specifically shaped cardboard, but somehow it always feels right.

It's funny what you think when you sleep. How only your own thoughts exist when you're halfway between death and a stuggle for consciousness. Tossing and turning leaves me sore and bitter toward the harsh buzz of an alarm clock that always seems to ring about five minutes before I would like it to. These dreams of swimming through the cosmos let me drift slowly and admire the symphony of stellar creationism. All the stars that I swim past doing my nightly laps of nearby galaxies, soon they'll all burn out and leave everything they ever knew. But not before they burn brighter than they ever have or ever will again...not before they explode with the intensity of nothing you have ever seen..or ever will see again.

this

i honestly cannot believe you.

do you even see what you have become? i hope that you can see how you have driven all of your friends so far away from you. i hope that you can see that you have lost any respect that anyone has has ever held for you, except for that snotty little bitch you call a girlfriend. the people who loved you have abandoned you, and want little to nothing to do with you.

good luck, you fuck.

the whipping wind

Recently I've noticed the winds are changing. Lately I've seen the weather change. I watched the clouds move in from the west, and waves swallow ships at the break of day. So here we stand at the top of the world, the wind swirling smiles around. Pushing you over while flying mid-air, whipping your hair up, and knocking me down.
You said "I'll be your fire", you'll keep me warm, while you rest your head atop my chest. And I breathe in at the heart of this storm, you have a habit of melting me, I must confess.

impressive

I wait all day, I wait all week. I wait all month for rain and most of the time it doesn't show up. In wanting clouded skies, I take the sun for granted. Those impressive streaks of light shattering glass and breaking my resolve just make me want to dive into the sun and swim through space.

I've been here three years since July
And I've tried on a few more names
My head's still stuck in drive
But my body seems to feel the same.
This California sunshine
Is calling out your name in vain
It's saying that you're all mine
But I know you need time to change

I know that you're gone,
You've been burning hard and burning fast.
You said can't come home,
And they're not sure if this should last.
You know that I'm at home,
I'm right here when you're away.
In a year or two,
I'll come back, I'm there to stay.

You're so far from home,
the West Coast is sore from carrying you.
You've gotta do this one your own,
You said there's nothing I can do.
This California sunshine,
is calling out your name in vain.
It's saying that you're all mine,
But I know we need time to change.

I'll be right here
when you get back.
Your friends tell me
not to even bother.
I"ll contain
these heart attacks.
We always come right back
to one another.

excerpts of a younger self

"if you don't have a daddy,
wel that's okay.
i'll lay in a field with you
if you feel like coming home today
todays the day"


"there's an expression
of other discretion
thank you kindly,
but i'm leaving you my dear
i just can't take living here anymore."

"hey little moon,
what is your name?
oh would you teach me
how to play this game?
when day is night
and night is day
won't be no sunshine
not on me..
not a single ray."

i'm

content to drown.

the shifting of plates.

you.

i know who you are. and you know me.

i write to you as gently as i can, with my cleanest and clearest intentions. 

you are the 'b' to my 'a'.

i know that you will travel this earth, you will go far.

i know that you will make prints in the sand, your skin will caress old bark and be aged by tired winds. 

you are beautiful.

i can tell that you have thought about it.

the two of us know, we both know more than we know ourselves. 

no matter how far we go,

no matter how many miles we drive,

no matter how many steps we take, homes we live in, faces we love, or times we die...

we will always come back.

we are magnets. 

even if we do not see each other for years at a time,

it's always like we were in different rooms of the same house, within earshot. 

i love you.