Birth Of Wrath

i just recalled what broke the final straw, and started the free fall. it was you talking nonsense to the sky, about how better things were gonna come your way. ramblings that got me thinking now might be the time so i abruptly interrupted and told you that was me. but you weren't convinced so i was unsuccessful. and deep down i knew you'd deny it, and deeper down i knew i wasn't prepared to hear it.

i left that conversation with the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. but it was replaced with the weight of a heavy heart. one that recovered surface but not internal. one that threw the towel in, and tried to walk away without any hurt feelings left, or swept under the rug. one that told itself everything would be okay on an hourly basis, one that retired to the bathroom to weep and bellow. and it worked overtime to mask the plague it caught from you.

couple of days later i read the heart it's last rights.
things were touch and go, but it made it through.
and the religious people close to me considered it a miracle.
and to their faces i laughed and told them they had to be kidding me, but behind their backs i agreed and cried from relief.

Fleeting Justice

hot damn it was cold outside this morning. and by the time i got to school i couldn't feel my feet, but things weren't so horrible. i wore six layers, none of which seemed to do the trick. and that's fine.

anyway, i was walking eastbound when a slight misunderstanding took place on the sidewalk between myself and an older gentleman who was headed westbound. still, we were also headed directly towards each other. a couple people on the same track just going in opposite directions. but while trying to side step i went to my left, and instantaneously him to his right. then me to my right and him to his left in accord once again. this whole number went on for a couple more steps, and it hits me that we look like penguins and i start to smile. he then smiled too. we did eventually successfully avoid one another, much to my dismay. i figured the whole thing could wind up one of those charming movie scenes where everything we're holding flies up in the air and both of us just look up at it like "holy smokes", and then we finally collide and fall backwards to the ground.

well it didn't happen, but it was still nice.

The Clandestine Killed Comfort

i stand in the shower, away. the water hitting me and running down my face. it feels like the rest of my life i could stand there and not know the difference. of course you're on my mind, but it feels much better thinking about you when i'm naked. halfway there. and as the water cascades and descends i can't help but weigh the efforts of our failed relationship. it's all become the past quickly, almost overnight. but i'd rather not leave this space where beauty and heat collide and create an effect that reminds me of our early days together. when they didn't know any better, and we were just relaxing the tensions between us. all the grandiose reasons we gave for trying too hard, and making things more wonderful than we ever knew was possible. an exploratory adventure, we drained it of all it's worth and then left it. and you created the image of an overflowing willingness to heed, and i just took advantage. the fog settles my nerves and i stop thinking about us because clarity isn't the only thing available to score the happenings of all this.

i used to put names on all my failures, now i just place numbers.

Keep On

i was walking down the street getting as close to a skip as i'll allow myself. i was singing aloud with my headphones on like i'd quit my day job. an old man with a cane turned the corner at a much slower pace than he probably desired, and my happiness was radiating. he recognized the smile and rather than question me he just briskly stated as we crossed paths "you're happy". my response went unverbalized but takes one to know one.

now, this was a far cry from the days where i'd get to the city, get off the train and immediately check the time table to see that first train i could take back home. the same days where i'd wind up home at the train station and have to sleep it off in my car for a couple hours. these were the furthest things from my mind. the dark ages. i'd usually wake up sober wondering where i went wrong. and for a while i was skeptical that i'd never be as happy as i had been in the past. and i don't know how but i've finally learned that hurt is an everyday thing - but bundled with hope and respect, and maybe some courage, life is bearable all the time, and enjoyable almost as much. you can have everything and nothing all at the same time, it's the definitions that make the decisions.

and old friend used to tell me that being selfish is a good thing. in my angst i believed it to be the only thing, now i see otherwise. in being selfless i've found pounds of a better type of selfishness. it's great giving back to people and it in fact feels so good that you being to grow accustomed to the feeling, wanting to recreate it at any opportunity. it's turned into a semi-selfish motive for being selfless.

there's just one last thing i'd like to address: people have told you something along the lines of all things that are worth it in life must be attained through hard work. what a sham - i'd put money on the idea that the pioneer of this statement wasn't a very happy individual. as i've grown painstakingly slow over the past couple of years i'm beginning to truly believe that the best things come the easiest.

A Dime A Dozen

and i felt myself breathing heavy just so my ribs might touch your arm. even for that second. that was then. this isn't then. i took a couple steps back and realized what i was wagering. i decided that i must retreat and as i did i focused my attention towards the hangings on my wall. the makings of a mended portrait left here from the prior owners, and it's been here for years but the dust never seems to settle. i feel it begging with me to collapse, to let you reign and domineer this life i've tried to have. and i might be cowering but i haven't collapsed.

and i'm on the train now writing this, reflecting and the woman huddled across from me has coffee and i have nothing, and the smell is going straight to my stomach.

The Disheartening Facts For A Middle-Aged Woman

Dear Diary,
That balding fat therepist of mine continued his string of stupidity at my last session on Friday. He tells me to write Phil a letter where I "act as if nothing bad can come from it". I bet that asshole is on his fourth or fifth marriage. I don't know why I continue to go to him, I guess it's because of the close proximity to my house. Margaret told me that her therapist can read her mind. Oh gosh, if I could retain some therapy guru, he could be my confidant and together we'd solve all my foolish problems. Anyway, here's what I came up with so far...

Dear Phil,
I hate you so much, and I'm so sorry. When I'm next to you in bed I hate it. I hate looking at you and seeing you breathe. Damn I sound harsh, but I'm not meaning to. It's just things have changed so much between us, and I know I'm at least partially to blame. I always think of your sister's 40th birthday party when I sat on Linda's husband's lap, and how angry you were. I was drunk Phil. Plus I was getting rather sick of always playing second fiddle to whichever one of your receptionists was on the payroll at the time. Quite frankly I've endured a lot during all 17 years of this marriage and Phil I've finally woken up. I'm not even going to ask you to give up your insignificant affairs and short-lived relations, I know you're much too selfish. Rather, I'm giving you some notice that I will be engaging in my own escapades shortly and your involvement is not requested. And who knows Phil, maybe one day I'll be gone, and when you send for me it'll take days, and you won't like the response...

It could use some work, but it's not bad so far. I'm gonna go off to sleep now.

XOXO
Elizabeth Wilder

Silence On The Prairie

time is such a twisting burden,
as it's expanse is ever vast
and it ties my mind, however fine
to things that settle-quite like pebbles
at the bottom of a rapid stream
where you wade but aren't seen

and i'm across the widest plain
on my back feeling slain
displace the ground with ecstasy
arms up like a towering tree
getting ready to receive
a calming sensation
from the warmest breeze

then a bird comes to my shrinking view
and begins to mock my grayish hue
he flaps away towards a brighter horizon
i stare at his departure, still none the wiser

Bah Humbug!

in an attempt to save what little money i happen to come by i had made the drastic choice to spend no more than 4 dollars on food. this had reduced me to pizza, mcdonalds, and bagels. it was already a sad situation my friends, and it's only gotten sadder. now i'm almost completely dependent on freebees and the likes.

i've only been out of a job a couple days now, but it's really starting to go to my head. when i was walking to school yesterday i saw a stranded McCafe cup on the side of the road, had to be a medium, or a large. i know the small looks somewhat disproportionate and silly. although i gave the cup what i believed to be a passing glance, i instinctively noticed the monopoly game pieces still completely intact. i figured it was a rushed, environmentally unconscious slave of the workforce merely overlooking the chance at an instant win. although in these rough economic conditions the instant wins seem to be few and far between and are reminiscent of a more glorious economy. i peeled away my two game pieces to reveal a railroad and some other miscellaneous property. i tossed the cup in it's proper trash receptacle. so much for dumb luck, or rather bum luck.

High-Fives & Good Times

i quit my job, i quit drinking*, but most importantly i've quit feeling sorry for myself. recently a lot of things that in the past i've probably considered the very foundation of my essence have vanished, but now i have to reconsider - if the foundation is gone how can the structure still stand? i was mistaken, or i've built new ones over night...?

either way i feel great, and now that my schedule is cleared (that's some unemployment humor) i'll finally have the time to sit still and bask in a voluntary and purposeful life worth living. time seems to be moving at a slower pace, but in the best way. school doesn't warrant the rush that work always did, and i feel as though i've finally gotten a chance to step out of the worlds stuffiest room. as for my newly ascertainable free time i have devised a pretty sweet list of things i plan on doing, all of which seem fantastic yet were totally impossible just days ago. i'll address the money issue when it becomes just that because at this time i have developed in depth tactics to do without. none of which are illegal, no worries.

and in regards to the foundations: most things are temporary. how could i forget?



*daily, and in excess

Sigh-ence Fiction

i've been sighing a lot lately. and not just relief sighs. this is the "there's nothing else i can do" sigh. the kinds that glow of indifference, and acceptance. and sometimes sighs are overshadowed and passed over. but not these ones. for their tiny moments of existence reap my deepest emotions and extract all my negativity in exchange for pure and docile breath. these sighs are my subconscious raising the white flag and begging for a return of the prisoners of war. and presumed dead at one point their return would mark something of a marvel. but placed back in their rightful positions they can serve me once again. indeed, they were rather useless in captivity, but there is hope for them tomorrow, and for me, and for you.

sigh on troops.

A Figure Of Speech

once when i was a clever student of life i wrote the most splendid piece of poetry on how i was dependent upon your love. not much had changed in the months that followed since i produced it, and i pressed hard to overcome that little problem, but when no solution presented itself i did the only thing i knew how and gave up. but i didn't walk away with my head down, no, instead i bagged your love and sold it to my neighbor who promised to put it to good use. when he tried to talk me down i got nasty and told him i'd find another buyer. then he clamored something about the value of a buck and reluctantly bought it.

the son of a bitch then challenged me to a foot race, and without a moments hesitation i accepted. i stopped racing, but for all it's worth i think i would've won. after i dragged myself to the side of the road i sat down and waited. for what i'm not sure, but i was sad when it didn't show up. and in between all the waiting there was some longing. after hours passed i decided to start the walk home. when i arrived i went right to the couch and there i sat down. i retraced the events of the day for all the good and bad. all the love i harbored and i had sold yours. i made some coffee and sipped it slowly. i started to hum the melody of a song an old grade school teacher taught me and with that my eyes got heavy.

i died on that couch. that day. alone.
thinking about what i'd have to live without.

Here Goes Nothing

the weather is getting so cold, but i'm just beginning to heat up.

two days ago i figured out the four words that are gonna save my life:
I'm Gonna Fix It.

i asked my good friends mom when she gave up on life. she told me not up until just recently, and that i'm way too young to give up. i believed her cause in all the years i've known her i've never taken her to be a liar. at least not with me.

i figure it's like this, and correct me if i'm wrong, if you walk down the wrong path - and maybe you're not even too far down this path - but you one day realize what's going on and you say to yourself how the heck did i get this far. and you start to take a look around and you really don't like what you see. so you decide you indeed did get on the wrong path, but what comes next? you can't just be picked up by the hands of God and placed on the correct path. this is LIFE remember? you're left with one realistic, yet unpleasant choice: go back the way you came.

King Me!

Peach Flavored Yogart

yesterday i threw a carton, if that's what you call it, of activia yogurt out the window of my car and after the explosion i loved watching the extra-light orange color canvas itself over the black pavement. it really was the most beautiful thing i've seen in a while.

it turns out no one wants to hear your sadness. or even wants to see it. or acknowledge it. or try and help you through it. although my ex-bff offered me her prozac script. that HAS to count for something...anything?

and i'm a fraction of what i thought i'd be today
caught in the worst jag so i grab my keys race for the car
burning out and i was never that bright to begin with
getting ready, making progress, hands are steady
feeling my flesh burning up from the fear i torched
at the impossibility of being any more scattered
you come along and blow about the debris of me

Number 27

i was sitting on the train and as the conductor passed through the aisle he told me to smile and even went as far to make this motion with his two hands where he traced out the shape of a smile. i was just thinking about the merits of my actions as of late and what's to become of me.

i thought about my dad, and what he would think about me. i used to focus on making him posthumously proud, and for a while i believe i had it nipped in the bud. well maybe the jig is up. what i remember most about my father was his wild sense of humor and his charismatic nature. he was down to earth, and had a real grasp on the fruits of life and how to find them. before he died i'd like to think he was teaching me how to live like he did. happy and satisfied. unfortunately for the both of us he never got around to finishing up the task and so i was left to interpret and fend for myself.

my mother is a miracle and i love her, but the old man had a way of making me feel like i could conquer all of asia and most of europe in a lifetime. and anyway i left the train thinking that it's still within me, somewhere. that feeling. and if the yankees stomp out their world series opponent i might just recapture some of that valiance thats in the depths of my being.

Deliver Me From Despondency

sometimes i wish you knew the hurt that festers my soul
runs rampant and eats my desires whole
the kind that on my best day i ever had
still hallows and carves the pleasantries dry
and you wouldn't know unless it capsized your life
the aches that torment and banter through night
and to no avail you defiled me weak
for you i'm a saint yet faced with defeat

FAQ's

i saw a canvas tote bag with the inscription "i left my heart in california". how nice for that girls heart. its probably sunbathing in a bikini with a frozen cocktail at hand.

i think i left mine somewhere between stability and risk. but after high school. and not too far from now.
somewhere my heart is left sitting on a park bench holding a cardboard sign and on that sign is the handwritten note "i'm a veteran i need money for food". my heart has its eyes closed somewhere. it can't see, it's probably alone, and it definitely misses me.

"do i miss it" you all ask? and i'd love to sit back put my feet up and gush to you about how much i do. but i'm an honest person, i make an honest living, and i'd like to write an honest blog if you don't mind. so, for the record that is this blog, let me say i don't exactly miss it. i miss the heart i had back in the good ol' days, but not the one i left that's holding that sign now. not the one that's skipping beats. quite frankly i've had the passing thought that maybe i'm better off without it. can you picture that? me either so i put it down immediately and went forward.

anyway its all really irrelevant because i don't have the luxury of remembering where i left it. and even if i had it's all just speculation. that stuff about it missing me.

back home i'm beginning to let myself go and i don't care who knows it (which should be made apparent by this here blog entry). i think its fairly safe to say i've gained a couple pounds. and may gain a couple more.

A Day In The Life

Some Nothing Because Currently That's All I Have To Write About:

::just signed up for the FDNY test being given in January of 2011. the recruiter told me a year goes by quick. and if there's something i've learned in my 7th semester at college it's that if you can't beat them join them - civil service is the way to go, pension and everything.

::my professor ended class 10 minutes early and the girl next me to said, almost to herself ,"thank you". funny the things some people are thankful for. i guess she didn't mean it in too heavy a way though.

::I spoke with Gap's customer service consultant, Shelly, a real nice lady btw and she has agreed to help me locate my discontinued beanie. My friend Erin says (and i do realize that this seems to be a reoccurring theme here, my good ol' pal Erin disgracing my dear beanie) that my beanie is a crutch. Well i'll be damned. It seemed to me the worst insult. I mean, what was my beanie to make of all this. After a while though i reconsidered and realized my beanie is in no way crutch. But instead my being in college is?

Because: i basically do what i want and take into account no harm because i am a so called College student. but i am in fact a pathetic soul seeking fuck who can't decide what I want, need, care for, respect, love, admire, desire, despise, idolize, etc.

And The Beat Goes On.

Just Say "Maybe This One Time"

about a week ago i was exhausted lying in my bed, probably about 10 minutes and i would have been out cold. mo was laying next to me waiting for her boyfriend to get out of work and retrieve her ass. then my phone rings and it's my ex-boyfriend robert. as i'm staring at the incoming call screen i wildly decide that instead of ignoring him like i usually opt to do i'll just pick it up and hold my ground that i am in no way hanging out. i pick up his call and we of course go through the usual whats up blah blah blah, basically the precursor to an invite over his house. in my head i'm preparing my speech on how tired i am - so tired that i would in fact crash the car if i tried to drive - then he cuts to the chase with "wanna come over i have a whole lot of salvia"

i was awake.

now i'm not anywhere near a strong advocate of drug use but at this moment i was almost as excited as those twilight fans when a new trailer comes out. my eyes lit up and i told him i'd be right over, not sparing a second.

now i had smoked salvia like a year earlier with a friend and her boyfriend and it didn't affect me too bad. of course i did think the room would behave like a gerbil wheel if i decided to run up the wall. but case in point my head was on straight i knew what was going on. things would change.

salvia comes in all different potencies but still when mo was explaining that i was gonna be a wreck i brushed it off and thought she must be a wuss. turns out i was wrong.

when i got to his house i was super antsy to take my hit. rob packed the bowl, handed me the lighter and sent me on my way. i lit the bowl took a long deep hit, held it in for as long as i could, and then exhaled. within seconds i slipped into the fourth dimension. and this probably sounds totally asinine but i'm thinking way outside the box after that. eg: yesterday i'm thinking to myself like why dont they just do social experiments, lets live on the edge and kick morals to the curb, but then i'm like wait we could be the social experiment "planet earth".

woah baby.

and it's not even like i'd want to smoke the salvia again, it's a real far-out trip. i now refer to it as a space drug hah. but i mean it changed my inner mind workings in a good way.

It's Beyoncé Bitch/Hips Don't Lie

when the great lord took Johnny Cochran i thought i'd seen the last of my heroes to die for a while. at least i didn't have to live to see RFK die, and ike, and i was too young to appreciate the mick, but i bet it would have killed me.

now that mj is gone i realized all the greats are dead - sorry Mr. McCartney but getting robbed by that bitch certainly brought your persona down one giant notch.

look, it's hard for me to admit this to an unforgiving America but i did love Anna Nicole Smith - so shoot me. at least i'm beginning to realize LaLohan isn't really the best role model - especially if you take into account her alcoholism paired with her bad body image =/, and it would be difficult to overlook. i mean if you're talking about criteria for Idol material.

okay but the deal is i need a living breathing idol. one that - even if it's temporary until someone better comes along. and i know i need to grow up eventually but hey, not now. and all i can think is BEYONCE! okay and still Gary Sheffield. and no offense to Gary but i think i'd just really consider him someone i'd like to be my friend, not really a hero so much.

but BEYONCE, i mean c'mon. she can Dance.

i've come to a realization that no matter how much you feel a pull towards comparison you must shy away.

Murran

not too long ago i was at a doctors office that a handful of doctors worked at. when i was reading the list of practicing doctors i noticed one doctor by the name of Maxworthy and i promptly thought that if my last name was Maxworthy i would have been blessed with more of a drive, maybe some ambition too. i'd end up some corporate executive with a 401k and a ton of frequent flier miles. or maybe an award winning novelist with a summer house in saint tropez but instead my last name is Moran. and way before i began researching exactly what the name meant i figured it probably stood for sloppy drunk in some foreign to me irish tongue.

however, after seconds of research i learned it actually means "large" or "great" in gaelic which doesn't seem fitting at all really. especially if you saw how short they all are on that side of the family. so then i read that it is a form of morgan which means belonging to the sea. honestly i liked the way this sounded much better. and then i found the coat of arms and the motto "lucent in tenebris" translated into "they shine in darkness", and then i just laughed.

i guess i'm further removed from my original irish ancestors than i had previously thought.

get this though, i tried to look up Maxworthy and the history behind the name and i got nothing. NOTHING. a witness protection name of some sorts maybe.

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.