When I’m alone and stripped, I peer around to meet the permanent gaze of the faces on my walls. I find myself in a pretty awkward predicament, despite my current state of loneliness, but I can’t help but surrender to the accusation… that they’re really watching

 

Every song is compromised by the inevitable anime music video

        ….and everyone knows it’s true

 

The element of the song
Slide your fingers along its cratered skin,
fantasize your precious illusion
Appeal
Dig your fingers just below the surface,
Just enough to get a slight grip:
Give your nerves a feel for its hide
Slowly peel back the first layer to see a hole in the exterior
The coarse web clinging like hell onto its remains-
unscathed by the separation-
hopeful that they might stay in tact
But at the same time begging to be picked apart
To give you just a taste
A taste of something new, something familiar.
Make it yours.
And you do.
You put it in your mouth,
the melodics bleeding onto your eager tongue
Leaving you with an overall sense of..

Bitter towards a world who can’t drown in the confusion of silence

I see your lips move, but what are you saying?

 

We continue to dust the food toward the edges of our plates,

Just as we always do,

Excusing the lack of communication

Because there’s everything to talk about

                                And nothing to say

We are on two opposite sides of the spectrum

And trust me, I would do anything if only to bridge the gap

But live with the knowledge that I can’t.

 

I’m only human too.

 I like that sound:

The sound of moving forward,

the sound of the space bar.

I’m getting somewhere.
Even if it’s nowhere.

 

For the past thirty seconds, my mind bore witness to a frightening sight, proposing a landslide of epiphanies. This is a new concept to me. A bunch of grown men and women, waltzing around in tribute to Johnny Mercer. So joyous is their crusade to honor and remember this individual. A plastic wrapped transvestite plagues my mind. I am subject to his tush wiggling.

“I am profusely sweating, write that down.” I can’t keep up with this… I’m standing on Mount Vesuvius. I’m taking a nap on thiss h ower. The walls are clawed… I am not imagining this.We were two sides to one person… At first we were like little kids again, exploring the regions of the unknown and beginning to love and understand the world around us. As the night bled on, we dug our way under the surface to find ourselves screaming. I’ve never felt so naked, so exposed to a single person in my entire life. Every thought that swam its way into our heads was screamed at each other. Our emotions were thrown up all over the walls. I’m so sore right now. We were little acrobats, throwing ourselves around in a desperate attempt to be one with this world. Everything seemed to melt into everything. We were breathing with the trees and watching our fingers float away. There was a time when I looked into the mirror and saw myself as another person. At times being exposed to everything you’ve ever felt was too much. 

Pencil to paper, and to paper, will
the ticket stub to our latest thrill.

 

 

 

force reaction

Omnipresent distractions: seemingly pressing enough to ignore what my conscience once thought defined a meaningful life. Useless attempts to stop what I’ve started, to return to my mindless self indulgence. Opposite force working together to trigger a reaction–Impending relief.
Launching myself down a road of incredible velocity, zig-zags and uncontrollable vibrations. The sugar coated path is tempting. Taking advantage of my weakness– my drifting fading willpowe.  Indifferent to my further purpose. Intentions are worthless. More tainted conversations with yesterday’s reflection. A full force, high speed train with no breaks. worn from the cycle. Forcing the wear and tear of never-ending days. Slaves losing a sense of redemption.

Hoping to satisfy the new tomorrow and yet sick of being compelled to be perfect.

So this is what I’ve been waiting for all along.  It’s surprising how grateful I am for this nothing.

Strange blur of emotion
but somehow void.
My restless mind exploring the opportunities of life
unnecessary anticipation
recalling the past with peace
the only difference is percetion.
The reoccuring confusion.

The melody flowing through my bloodstream, regulating my heart beat, reimbursing my drifting, fading willpower. I think I’d rather spend the rest of my life listening to this song, The Piano Man. No really, I would, Even if it is compromised by Elly’s eager singing voice. It’d be nice to just sit on Ashley’s couch, illuminated by the lights and the hand-made ornaments of our second grade years. I want to return to my home planet. Our crazy consists of the bath tub, it’s our sanctuary, where we drown our stagnant thoughts in our sea of blankets. Where our feelings dance in the mind of the other and are thrown up all over the walls. I’ve never felt so whole, so accepting of my fate. I’m not saying it wasn’t painful, though. Knowing that there are people who obtain comfort in watching someone else’s struggle because it signals their success. We’ve lost our enchantment for this world, for anything but ourselves