11/26/2007-4:49am
the washer was slamming with the beat. We should probably not play music as we wash clothes anymore
the cigarette seems to just disappear in my hands
the washer is at it again
what will tomorrow bring, that i don't want anymore of.
somethings just never leave you alone. They are usually in the form of paper bricks. there's always something about getting hit in the head with a brick that can just ruin a whole day.
threes, i don't know what its about with the threes. They are there for a reason.
today was my birthday. I don't feel much older today. I sure it'll soon come. Eventually peaking its head in my rear view window. Its like the car behind you is a man of the law tailing you without its lights on. there's a certain something that just never goes away till it does. Butterfly's most likely.
Nicotine draws gravity towards you. Its got a funny way of making you fall over, like the junkie after a great fix. This too, just never goes away. moving in the waves.
Where does one go from here.
Where does it start?
Where does it stop?
When do I get off?
Where's the exit?
Find a way
there's a door,
somewhere.
there's gotta be right?
something tells me i'm in store for much more than a party...
November 28th, 2007-5:17am
I feel that if I stop writing now, the ink will run dry. I had second thoughts, but I cashed in on a check from the universe today. For the first time in a long time, I was given something for nothing. Nothing in return. Nothing.
I thought I heard a phone ringing. Its my imagination
or its the drugs.
My soul mate appeared on the news again today. That sinking feeling that she’s right there in your finger tips, shimmering auburn hair just out of your reach. You get to see half of a real person. Their mind, in a skewed, one size fits all, sort of way. It works for everyone you want it to work for, but it feels hollow to the touch. A cold dark place it can be sometimes. Personality portrayed for the masses. The “real” you trapped in a box and a word. Buried so far under it all.
What a nice day to be alive. Gloom and disparity fill the air.
Everyone's looking for a way by.
Everyone tells you of Their search to get by.
A man stands alone in a phone booth. A nickel short and a dime too late, he’s stuck. Nothing to do but stand
back and watch his last chance to reach his other half fade faster than his memory of her.
Today
this man looses the best thing that has ever happened to him.
Tomorrow
a man will stand alone in a phone booth. A nickel short and a dime too late, he’s stuck. Nothing to do but stand back and watch his last chance to reach his other half fade faster than his memory of her. Suddenly a man dressed in a grey peacoat will arrive silently.
“Here you go son. Do you need the change”
And he will.
He will be changed.
He will reach her.
He will tell her just how much he cares.
And the best thing in life that will ever happen to him, does.
December 7th, 2007-9:29pm
Music moves us literally. Sound generated by everything around us is able to form patterns in the sand. Moving together, apart and in between seamlessly with the change of pitch.
Never in my life have I been so excited to be alive.
Because it really doesn't matter. Anything that can happen, anything that has happened. It will all be for a higher achievement.
I imagine basking on the shore of the lake with her. In my house perfectly designed and decorated to tolerate such an amazing life. Concentrated thought, fills rooms past the brim. Ill look out at the stormy lake and realize that all has fallen into place. I will see the streaks of light fill the sky and crack through the clouds like bombs dropped from the heavens, seen only in flashes.
One of those summer storms, where the sun shines brightly behind the clouds while the rain pours down into the water of which it came from. Nature had the idea all along.
We all live recycled lives. Nothing ever is as it was before, but its still there in a new form. Reused, by you or others, it comes around again. Your first love, your second first love, your first kiss, your first fight, it will all come back around on itself. The human spirit transcends all of us. Project yourself into the atmosphere. Go beyond what you see or feel on the outside. How you project yourself determines how you will move on.
I will sit on the beach one day and remember back. This day. Right now. What have I been through in the last months? Where have I gone?
To the deepest depths of disappointment, burdens I’d wish upon no one.
I will sit on the beach and wonder out loud
“Isn’t it amazing how its come to this?”
She will say,
“I never thought it’d be possible, for either of us.”
I’ll smile and puff my cigarette.
What a good day this was.
Sitting on the beach
In complete fulfillment
After being rescued from the storm.
the washer was slamming with the beat. We should probably not play music as we wash clothes anymore
the cigarette seems to just disappear in my hands
the washer is at it again
what will tomorrow bring, that i don't want anymore of.
somethings just never leave you alone. They are usually in the form of paper bricks. there's always something about getting hit in the head with a brick that can just ruin a whole day.
threes, i don't know what its about with the threes. They are there for a reason.
today was my birthday. I don't feel much older today. I sure it'll soon come. Eventually peaking its head in my rear view window. Its like the car behind you is a man of the law tailing you without its lights on. there's a certain something that just never goes away till it does. Butterfly's most likely.
Nicotine draws gravity towards you. Its got a funny way of making you fall over, like the junkie after a great fix. This too, just never goes away. moving in the waves.
Where does one go from here.
Where does it start?
Where does it stop?
When do I get off?
Where's the exit?
Find a way
there's a door,
somewhere.
there's gotta be right?
something tells me i'm in store for much more than a party...
November 28th, 2007-5:17am
I feel that if I stop writing now, the ink will run dry. I had second thoughts, but I cashed in on a check from the universe today. For the first time in a long time, I was given something for nothing. Nothing in return. Nothing.
I thought I heard a phone ringing. Its my imagination
or its the drugs.
My soul mate appeared on the news again today. That sinking feeling that she’s right there in your finger tips, shimmering auburn hair just out of your reach. You get to see half of a real person. Their mind, in a skewed, one size fits all, sort of way. It works for everyone you want it to work for, but it feels hollow to the touch. A cold dark place it can be sometimes. Personality portrayed for the masses. The “real” you trapped in a box and a word. Buried so far under it all.
What a nice day to be alive. Gloom and disparity fill the air.
Everyone's looking for a way by.
Everyone tells you of Their search to get by.
A man stands alone in a phone booth. A nickel short and a dime too late, he’s stuck. Nothing to do but stand
back and watch his last chance to reach his other half fade faster than his memory of her.
Today
this man looses the best thing that has ever happened to him.
Tomorrow
a man will stand alone in a phone booth. A nickel short and a dime too late, he’s stuck. Nothing to do but stand back and watch his last chance to reach his other half fade faster than his memory of her. Suddenly a man dressed in a grey peacoat will arrive silently.
“Here you go son. Do you need the change”
And he will.
He will be changed.
He will reach her.
He will tell her just how much he cares.
And the best thing in life that will ever happen to him, does.
December 7th, 2007-9:29pm
Music moves us literally. Sound generated by everything around us is able to form patterns in the sand. Moving together, apart and in between seamlessly with the change of pitch.
Never in my life have I been so excited to be alive.
Because it really doesn't matter. Anything that can happen, anything that has happened. It will all be for a higher achievement.
I imagine basking on the shore of the lake with her. In my house perfectly designed and decorated to tolerate such an amazing life. Concentrated thought, fills rooms past the brim. Ill look out at the stormy lake and realize that all has fallen into place. I will see the streaks of light fill the sky and crack through the clouds like bombs dropped from the heavens, seen only in flashes.
One of those summer storms, where the sun shines brightly behind the clouds while the rain pours down into the water of which it came from. Nature had the idea all along.
We all live recycled lives. Nothing ever is as it was before, but its still there in a new form. Reused, by you or others, it comes around again. Your first love, your second first love, your first kiss, your first fight, it will all come back around on itself. The human spirit transcends all of us. Project yourself into the atmosphere. Go beyond what you see or feel on the outside. How you project yourself determines how you will move on.
I will sit on the beach one day and remember back. This day. Right now. What have I been through in the last months? Where have I gone?
To the deepest depths of disappointment, burdens I’d wish upon no one.
I will sit on the beach and wonder out loud
“Isn’t it amazing how its come to this?”
She will say,
“I never thought it’d be possible, for either of us.”
I’ll smile and puff my cigarette.
What a good day this was.
Sitting on the beach
In complete fulfillment
After being rescued from the storm.
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