A Dreamer Dreams, She Never Dies

the clouds looked like a marble counter top. i was lying outside and i couldn't help but notice. i thought it must retain the cold - quite similar to you.

then i remember this dream i had, where we were both out front. you were upset with me all because i was trying to sway your enemy to get an education. and then suddenly you ran to the left gate and by the time i noticed i had no choice but to go through the right gate. my reaction time has always been subpar and the dream solidified that. i just figured we'd meet in the backyard. but my cellphone rang and it woke me up so i'm not exactly sure how the dream would have played out had it run it's course.

now i just think it's such a shame dreams usually only come around once.
and when i go to bed now i adjust my sound setting in my phone to "alarm only".
just in case.

On Hold

when is the moment you realize you have to give up, move on and/or push forward.
before it's too late.

a few years back, as part of growing up i engaged in a crime and was promptly arrested. it was nothing too serious, but i'll never forget waking up after the haze and the feeling i had. i wanted it to all be a bad dream. i felt defeated, and embarrassed. i didn't want to leave my room for shit. i wanted my mom to hold me in hopes that after i cried for hours i might just feel better, like i felt before the wake of this horrible incident. it was honestly like nothing i've ever felt before. that's why today as i was driving home from work i couldn't have mistaken it for the world. i just didn't understand why.

so i've come to realize that i've absolutely moved beyond reason and i spend an abundance of my spare thought time creating scenarios that are crippling. my only feeling is one of feeling like i can't feel anything. thing is, the pain doesn't consume me anymore, but when it comes, it's not just a wave, it's a tsunami and i feel like i want someone to stab me in the heart because it would just release a shit load of pressure that's been ready to explode out of my chest for too long.

i have no idea what i'm talking about. maybe this is the aftermath of the worst thing in the world. maybe it's just life and i have more to learn.

Untitled

regret is the word that fosters my soul
hope beyond a fence made of bones
lost in the angles of your smile
high off the carpentry of your body

once in awhile i believe this trip
was bound to derail at first slip

the liquid mass has turned to stone
never again to possibly return
so show me all the cards you hold
as i deflate as you steadily swell
with the tricks still up your sleeve
and all that's left for comfort
are your pathetic prophecies

On, Comet! On, Cupid!

i wouldn't have been the first to blink
but now i sit here and have to think
of all the moments i must have wasted
all the situations that could've taken place

and wearier things have happened to me
resulting in famish, yet stuffed to the brim
so sanctions are placed, and feelings erased
you're up in your tank and off through space

a disastrous beginning to a sorry end
free from the middle, is this pretend?

Hearsay

i was in dunkin donuts the other day and i don't know why but it felt like the holiday season. just for a instant. maybe it was the crowd, or rather the fact that i've been delirious. taking nearly everything the wrong way so it's morphed into my own right way. just another compartment that requires some cleaning.

all that aside, yesterday my friends mom was telling me about her sister's neighbor's son who used to work on wall st. that is until he developed a frothy gambling problem and lost everything he had worked so hard to attain. she told me that he currently spends the majority of his time sitting on his bed, in the dark, with no sheets. he's given up on showering. and he's constantly telling everyone he crosses path with that he's about to buy a house. that he's going to closing real soon.

after going on a bit longer she stops and stares at me. the story seems incomplete.
but having reached her conclusion she stares at me and states "something inside him just snapped". it was like she was speaking about some incurable unknown disease he had contracted.

holy shit though wait, is that what's happened to me? and wait, what was it that actually snapped? i mean he can still walk and stuff right?
but i think she was referring to something more unidentifiable.
so here i was left thinking to myself holy shit i want my insides to be strong and formidable - certainly nothing snapable. and i began to freak out a little when i realized that i had seen this young man at a family barbecue a couple weeks earlier and he looked perfectly fine, so now i'm all paranoid as i contemplate what people say about me behind my back.

"Who Does That?"

my friend Erin told me i need to get help. not in the joking way, but in the you seriously need clinical professional help from a therapist way. of course i'm excused because i lack insurance, but in the mean time i've considered the fact that i am a little crazy. roughly speaking. not in the i'm dancing around naked talking about Vietnam way either. just in the i have some issues looming overhead that are causing me some serious fucking problems way.

then i remember a few days back Erin looked at me and i don't exactly remember the context of a surely serious conversation but she said "who does that?" - and she was referring to my red hat and how i wear it everyday. all through summer. all through winter. happy. sad. excited. disappointed. drunk. sober. willing. pumped. angry. laughing. joking. serious. bad. good. beginning. end. in the car. at my job. listening to the radio. and i can't remember my exact response, i'm sure it was a defensive "well i love this hat". but running through my head were a series of cartoon characters because they're the only people i could think about that wear the same hat all the time.

but what followed wasn't a feeling of insecurity or shame. i really don't care if people judge me and think i look stupid with the hat, or think it's weird, or ridiculous and all this garbage that people believe because it's the norm. fuck 'em. and i'm sure a therapist would tear my red hat obsession to shreds, and from it harness the symptoms of a thousand diagnosable conditions. but let the truth be told when i say i know i'm nuts. plain and simple. and until my red hat disappears, or gets hatnapped, or even worse...murdered, i will continue to wear it, and not give it even the slightest piece of a second thought.

that's just me.

and it's really quite a riot because before i was even allowed the chance to publish this post i actually had my hat off at my job and this guy i work with mentioned that it might be too hot to wear, but that it also must be my signature because "it's been going on since before winter". and then in a conversation with Erin titled "Things I Put Up With From You" she immediately called out my red hat as a prime example. she's just too good to me.

Out Of The Ruins

it's funny how we live in the past. pictures plastered everywhere. relax.

life always seems to get harder, as i get exponentially softer. i can feel the skin touching my bones, and it's worse than ever before. i'd like to meet the guy who invented change to show him how i perfected melancholy, cause i bet he'd be jealous. and around here catching any kind of break is like marrying a serpent - it's never really legitimate.

but the sidelines are cool because unlike the players you can see the whole picture. so maybe i should have sat out. and i guess it's more like a puppeteer commandeering my every move. but i'm supposed to give love the ax? stepping out like that just doesn't hold any weight for me.

plus i almost took a drink from the ashtray cup, i hope that doesn't say much about me. or the fact that i'm plastered like those pictures. i can count the number of times i could stand on one hand on more hands than you'd think. it's less confusing if you read it a second time. which reminds me of the rules you wrote, and how they're overbearing. had i caught a second wind i'd waste it away in days.

my final thought so happens to be that my stomach hurts because it's empty, sorta like our lives in general.

Daydream Believer

sometimes i wonder about what could be. and then i break down. the stuff you say tends to scare me, and then i want every dream of mine to be lucid. i worry if it tends to be me.

and i don't care what they say about how when you have nothing to lose you're free to do anything, because i'm still terrified.

and i carry a poem in my pocket that i wrote for you. the paper it's written on is tattered from me touching it. plus, it's incredibly cheesy - but it helps me forget how i'm always too polite.

Sunbathing

sometimes i sit still and i just think. i think up and think out all my insecurities.

i bask in them. and when i'm done i feel better. because after all they're just ideas, and concepts, and feelings of powerful emotion swirling and picking up the debris of my life in their tracks. and well, i'm better than that right?

i used to feel stifled by this crap, but lately i feel freed by speaking to it. i let it get the best of me, but now everything that's left is more endearing to me.

Apology Accepted, Disrespected, Then Neglected

sorry for all the excuses i ever threw your way

they clogged us like traffic heading down the freeway

and if you could only dance, and maybe let me see

i'd say the things to you that you'd never say to me

so flourish while i labor to carve out a sign

quite similar to the one you read

when i lost track of time.

and if i climbed our light post to get a perfect view

i'll come down just in time for having missed you.

Trash Is My Treasure

so i remember a while back those fancy soups waged a war against poor ol campbells for being mostly water. of course in the nature of corporate competition campbells quickly introduced the world to campbells chunky. as i recall from the commercials a guy eating condensed soup was shunned by his peers who considered the soup unsatisfactory and "childish". i always thought it to be a pretty stupid ad campaign and i dont really think you have to sell the fact that non-condensed soup is better. however, consider this: would it seem right to place a bunch of ice cubes into your progresso manhattan clam chowder bowl - i just imagine the ice cubes melting and failing to mix with the soup, idk. but if you put ice cubes into campbells chicken noodle soup its alright - the cubes are at home and once melted they assimilate nicely with the soup and the temperature is optimal. it's kinda like putting ice in your kool-aid.

The Rock & Me

i'd like to be a travler
but i never get too far
whispy weeks of nothingness
seems to be my expertise

hopefully a rock'll find me
and together we'll plunge
because i need that empty air

Gladly I Will

waking up this morning i had a

funny thought

that all mistakes when made

weren't that at all

i cracked a 1/2 a smile and stared

across my room

then i walked outside and laughed

off my impending doom

The Fourth Of July

the Fourth of July is supposed to be about independence, and that's what i intend to make it about. two days from now i will leave, and i won't turn back. of course i'll have to skip out on all those parties i wasn't invited to. but screw getting drunk for once - i do that everyday anyway, it's time to celebrate the holiday that celebrates the day in history this great country was established.



i will be going alone. i did invite a few people - 4 to be exact (erin, mo, jack and caitlin[in that order]) but everyone had plans so my destiny was created.

1. Erin had a Fourth of July party she mustn't miss
2. Mo had work and money that needs to be made.
3. Jack had a dentist appointment scheduled for Monday.
4. Caitlin had previous plans to hang with her family.


as i formed the plan i believed it might even fall apart, that i might chicken out and opt instead to do what most of you will be doing this Saturday. but i saw the sign, or rather heard the song i saw the sign and i realized that for me to emulate my own personal hero Alexander Supertramp, i must leave with, or without company.

i've packed a few changes of clothes, my longboard, a sleeping bag and several classic novels as well as two maps. one of the east coast, and one of d.c. - my destination. i just need to pick up a few disposable cameras, some progresso soup, and maybe a shitload of water.

i hope this goes as well as i think it's gonna.

Life After Death

so

i'm a drink on the rocks

and you won't budge - solid as hell

i'm fixated on you and you haven't a clue

so

a year from now if i'm not better

i'll get in my car, retire to the garage

and sleep with the chances i let pass us

so

when my insides are out, i'll be down for the count

Opinions, POV's, And The Whole Shebang

how hard is it to respect other's opinions? damn hard, that's how hard - but why? we all see things differently for an array of reasons, but i think it's hard for people to grasp that opinions can't be right or wrong and on top of that everyone is entitled to their own. bastards! hahah I LOVE LIFE. but anyway, it's a great adventure because opinions can be mean, nice, selfish, uneducated, researched, stupid, foul -and well just about anything right.

hey, do you think it's entirely impossible to disagree with an opinion but still respect it? for instance a racist opinion - how can you respect that? opinions are a tough topic if you ask me. we should respect other peoples opinions because being closed minded isn't a good look for anyone.
and i've tried to be honest in my own opinions and at times it's hard because i'm non-confrontational (sober anyway) and i dont want to offend anyone with my own stupidity.

but i think therefore i am - and what are we really without our opinions?

Outlets & Vices

i've accumulated too many, thanks blogger!

1. anxiety - nail biting.
2. anger - punching things, never people.
3. pain/love - blogging.
4. bordem/no direction/being a rolling stone - beer and pot.
5. excitement - single ladies dance.

Life's Short So Get To The Point

my latest semester at school was somewhat of a bust. regardless of all the "priceless" knowledge that was passed on to me the one thing i remember wasn't even in the realm of usual course material that i might later be tested on. it wasn't something i spend time studying, but rather it's something i examined. it was when my english professor - and quite possibly my final english professor in my college years - said to the class (tentatively titled Great Works Of Literature II) that there is an overall sense of nothingness to the grand point of life, and that all we really have are our choices. while i still felt confused and scared about life i at least realized that my feelings on such matters weren't totally off base. however, it still seems to me there is NO actual point - so maybe we choose what our point will be, or try to choose. it's challenging though to sum a life up into one point, even if you push aside success/failure. and i'm thinking you can't really judge other people's point - how about feeling sorry they let their point choose them? i've tied this all back to my new favorite book, Into The Wild, sorry augusten burroughs. because chris mccandless didn't let his point choose him, no matter how much it hurt and disappointed others. he seemed to understand you can't waste your life and disappoint yourself.


so, i've decided that i want my point in life to just create as much happiness as humanly possible for myself and the people i love. it seems easy but i'm gonna keep it in mind because i dont wanna wake up one day and have results from a bunch of choices i made that don't reflect or resemble me and what i want out of this life.

If You Seek Amy

simply put, things that i considered sacred you put on blast.

thank you.




and i hope you die lying next to me so i can smell the decay of your death first.




try that on for size.

Light Poetic Song

i had been nervous because the scapegoat i elected was clearly condemning every thought i produced. i got scared when my grievances walked beyond the boundaries i had cast in stone. flexing their over-sized muscles, i was nothing but a puddle, and i was eerily still. so maybe i surrendered, for the weak of heart - maybe that's another excuse - it was damaged towards the start. catch this though, i hired a priest who i played for keeps to perform an exorcism. things went great, the demons escaped and the hunch on my back fell off. but when i asked the priest to leave, he was in an uproar at my knees. pleading and screaming! and with no other choice i found a large enough bat and i took that old priest out.

Bemusement At It's Best (And Then Some)

i thought: i couldn't live without you.
and once at my job you parked out front, and i ran out to your car - your window was down and i wanted to kiss you, i didn't. it was the first time i was taller than you. i liked that, and i wondered if you had noticed.

i flash forward: another time i was asleep on the couch - but i heard you cleaning up and i didn't know in a few days you'd kill me. or maybe just cast me aside. well, i haven't stopped disappointing since. it's only now, after i've tossed the doctrine we made years ago out, am i able to sit down and see that i was waiting in a vacuum for your fresh air. had i painted a self-portrait when i was with you it would look something like a smothered sun behind the whitest cloud.

today i've walked off your path, and out of my rotten dreams that had been festering long after their expiration date. and i was pleased when i found new life and affections. and this time i'm convinced it's for real. unlike the life with you, a collection of dialogues in which neither of us were present.

A-S-S

back in my hey day i lived in an apartment complex that featured a barn like roof which was just the perfect surface for a game called A-S-S. the game required one simple piece of equipment and that was a handball.

the rules were quite simple. throw the ball as hard as you can, or just plain hard, at the wall and do everything in your power to catch it after the bounce. however, if you for any reason touch the ball and fail to catch it you receive a letter. or if you throw it and miss the wall you recieve a letter. quite similar to the idea in H-O-R-S-E. you could play with two people - or ten (choosing to play with ten could prove to be terribly dangerous though as you'll see later on).

the first person to spell out the word ass was then required to stand face first against the brick wall with their back to the rest of the players. every other player was then allowed to throw the ball at the failed player from about 10 or 15 paces away.

what's funny is sometimes for whatever reason you might just lob it over and barely tap them. like the fear alone of being pelted in the back of the neck was enough. other times you said "to hell with 'em" and you fucking hurled that Sky Bounce as hard as you fucking could and with the precision of a sharp shooter and watching even your best friend cringe and hit the ground made you feel light as air as if you just threw a strike, or hit a bulls eye.

A Tribute To The Canine

TOP 5 DOGS IN HISTORY

5. Pluto: Behind every successful mouse there is a strong dog -enough said.

4. Old Yeller: At first this stray was unwanted, but this protective pooch won the love of Coates family and was eventually payed for with a homecooked meal.

3. Lassie: Loving and smart this canine saved the day more than once, and was one little boys best friend.

2. Snoopy: This dynamic dog is a deep intellectual and is a habitual roof top dweller.

1. Balto: Way back in 1925 this heroic dog rescued an entire population when he pulled a sled of medicine nearly one thousand miles.

RUNNER UPS

Scooby-Doo: Along with the gang this ageless pup has been solving tricky supernatural mysteries since the 70's.

Underdog: A rhyming hero and pop culture icon, he was there whenever Sweet Polly Purebread needed him.

Honorable Mentions: Odie, Porkchop, Shiloh, Comet

Food For Thought

i'm a mindless romantic. i believe things should last forever and never sacrifice even an inch of their beauty. like when my friends parents would talk openly about how they were gonna get divorced come summer, i'd cover my ears and refuse to take them seriously. or how this past week i threw my cell phone and it subsequently broke. this is only after Emily told me she got drunk and told her ex-boyfriend that she never loved him.

lately i find this to be my biggest problem. mostly because i refuse to stop believing, and so i fight it. but the cold truth is, i'm fighting nature, and mother nature is not a romantic. come to think of it she's pretty much a heartless bitch who feeds off chance and change. flirting, she is a tease. and i don't fit into mother natures plans, or rather she doesn't fit into mine. and so i'm polished with fury, and sad more than i should be. but i'll play both sides like a carefully tuned piano, and with success. pounding the keys i never knew existed. hard energy produces sounds unconfined by walls and the likes - i'll take a bow and exit stage, but not before the audience calls for an encore. i don't oblige.

now, think about a fly stuck to a fly strip. struggling so unnecessarily.
that's you.

Flushing Out My Childhood

i wish i could still grow 3 inches in a year. and actually make it to a doctor when i'm sick. someone tells me "i haven't seen you since you were a baby", i smile and act polite - no hard feelings. when did it end?

spray myself with the hose then jump in the pool. ride in the way back of my moms station wagon and harass all other motorists. carefree and mischievous. death was for suckers, and risk was never evaluated.

this is what revisiting kool-aid will do to you =/

Pizza Parlay

i got pizza today, and i was the only one in the place. my own solitude seems to stalk me relentlessly. but then a man walked in. after receiving his pizza he walked up to me and asked if he could sit with me. there were at least 10 other empty tables and i had my back to him the entire time so i was kind of surprised. i barely lifted my head, but mumbled back "yeah, sure". after he sat down he wasted no time and asked me "what's the matter". i told him i didn't know. he said that was a lie because everyone knows, then i started to cry. consumed by my own grief, i would soon find myself enveloped in his.

he looked guilty and worried but stared into my eyes and told me he was sorry and that he didn't mean to upset me. i told him it wasn't his fault. he did a half-grunt type of laugh and told me that his wife said that when she left him several years ago, he seemed to have lost track of them all. he told me that he hadn't seen his daughter since she was 11 years old, and that he didn't know why but i reminded him of her, or at least what he remembered. i wondered to myself why his wife had left him. he was in his late forties and he seemed to be sharing a lot with a total stranger. i thought he shouldn't mind me since i'm such a wreck, but at the risk of sounding anti-social i held back. as i was finishing up he asked if he could give me his number, i told him that would be fine but that i'd never call. he said that's okay by him. and i had only taken one or two steps away from him and towards the door when it occurred to me what i was doing. so i turned around and asked him "this won't add to your misery will it?". then he answered me looking out the window at the passing strangers, their lives so intangible just feet away, with "what misery?", finally his eyes were back locked in with mine when he winked. i walked out.

Last Day At The Opera

what if there was something that reaches past the ordinary mediocre grand scheme of love.
it's a vapor that hinders causing any clarity i had to disappear.
the reaching seems special with results that break the life between two people.
i've yet to prove it despite the evidence mounting on your every word.
all i hear is lies.
it's backlash from the way we took to get here.

and now i want to let it all go,
cause nothing goes back. the origin is over,
the only scar i have from you's the love within my heart -
a constant reminder of my diminished sense of smart

I Think I Can

i feel like flash flooding, whatever that means. i feel like an organ being rejected by a body. when i ran up the stairs today, out of penn station, i wanted to keep on running. the deliberate and passionless nature of school, the tube, pals, drunk, sleep, driving, eat, single ladies dance, work, oil changes, bumming cigarette, and wasteful spending have trapped me. i feel like that parachute exercise in early education gym class, it's slowly coming over me, and when it finally does i can't get out. what i need to do is start a fire under that parachute to lift it up off of me, that way i can quickly run out.

this woman i watch on the train always wore black, and today she threw me a curve ball and showed up in peddle pushers (the nerve), a white blouse, and a light green blazer. spring is too early, i'm not ready for it. i crave the weather excuse for not leaving the house, now it's just another thing working against me. between me and you, i almost cried. i can't put my finger on exactly why but it's something between the proof she wore that spring is here with her on board and the static nature of myself.

maybe someone could read me The Little Engine That Could
but then i remember what shel silverstein said so poetically "If the track is tough and the hill is rough, THINKING you can just ain't enough!"

so i need a match, and a sack to place the pieces i'm picking up.

Nip It In The Bud

i was looking down at the hole in the crotch of my pants and all i can think is nip it in the bud meghan, before it gets any worse. i already had to get the other side of the inseam patched up when it formed a hole that i could fit my leg through. i'd show you a picture of these pants that i wear everyday, but i'd rather just leave it up to your imagination which will probably render it far less worse than it actually is.

i should throw them out, there's no doubt. i just can't let go. i love these pants even though they're fallen apart and aren't nearly as great as they once were. more importantly they're comfortable, i love the way they feel. what's wrong with me? they were used when i got them. and now they're just pathetic. these pants are like an open wound i constantly wear. i have no shame, you think i could find some?

thankfully summer is close, i'll have to start wearing shorts. fall comes up quickly though, i could get sucked right back in to the black corduroy pants.

i'm constantly mistaking liabilities for assets.

Faceless Memories

when i don't see someone for a bit i slowly forget what they look like. its the first step in a fading memory of someone. it's like when a tv program gets cancelled, and at first it's all so fresh - but after a while you can't even remember the shows name, maybe a few plots and the theme song if you're lucky. i have too many faceless memories of people. i might remember a certain feature, turning my memory into something along the lines of "fat and big ears" or "bushy eyebrows and pointy nose". i never imagine it happening to anyone, them turning into this faceless memory. i can't comprehend how after i saw someone everyday for years within months they can fall out and become diluted, failed memories. memories that end up straining you to recall the precious details that make up a persons facial structure. and maybe you can look at a photograph, but it's not yours to have at your beck and call, waiting for you to need it, so it can be displayed and you can move on without that empty dry feeling on the other side. the one that yells disappointment. that hurt that lets you know that person is gone, if not in reality then in your god damn memory where you needed them to stay and wait for you to call on them.