My eyes are thick and clouded with my tears and your liquor
20/20 vision, shot to hell with just one shot glass.
//
I need my prescription checked
//
‘cause my face just hit the floor
You’re just not the quick-fix drug that I’m looking for
//
You hold your breath, hoping self-salvation may come around
//
And it seems
This case of writer’s block has got me back in time
With myself
But I still can’t seem to pen a line
//
You call it an obsession
A disease, incurable but for a stone thrown at a glass heart in the vain hope that it will shatter.
To be completely honest, my desperation barely manages to hold its’ own anymore.
The paper bag filled; water with acidic overtones
//
Why?
The unholy bible lost its’ sex appeal to Hollywood.
Your front gate lost its’ curb appeal to the rain.
The innocent boy - the one in the wrong place at the right time, the one we read about – lost his court appeal to the crown prosecuter.
The world is dead, but I am not.
That’s why.
//
Hand over heart, you think to yourself
Bitter taste in your mouth and a storm in your chest,
“I am going to die.”
Be honest, you’re nowhere near.
You just took one too many Aspirin with breakfast this morning.
But just so you know
Whenever you want to, you can just disappear.
Make it effortless.
Make it scandalous.
Make it rip a new hole in the side of your head.
(to let the breeze in, of course)
Make it burn my heart with a branding iron.
Maybe then, and only then, could I try to forget it all.
//
Keep a secret, keep it safe
Maybe then I’ll go unscathed
Keep a rhythm, keep in time
Then I’ll know what’s yours and mine
Just so you know: this was never about you.
-XO
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
i'm head over heels with someone i really can't deal with.
and it's killing me.
inspiration seems to be avoiding me lately. just as you sit by his apartment, praying and waiting for him to come out and say he's sorry, say he loves you after all, kisses you and makes it up to you in the most physical of ways...but you know that it will never happen.
all i ever see is the "never can's" and the "not again's" in the back of my mind, waiting for an appropriate time to cut into my thoughts and ask "can i have this dance?"
Headaches and bad luck leave me awake and heartstruck.
your tongue is numb from all the frostbitten words that roll off your tongue and sting in the most delicate of ways, but the only way that you could ever leave a lasting scar is by never speaking to me again.
cross my heart and hope to die [in your arms].
inspiration seems to be avoiding me lately. just as you sit by his apartment, praying and waiting for him to come out and say he's sorry, say he loves you after all, kisses you and makes it up to you in the most physical of ways...but you know that it will never happen.
all i ever see is the "never can's" and the "not again's" in the back of my mind, waiting for an appropriate time to cut into my thoughts and ask "can i have this dance?"
Headaches and bad luck leave me awake and heartstruck.
your tongue is numb from all the frostbitten words that roll off your tongue and sting in the most delicate of ways, but the only way that you could ever leave a lasting scar is by never speaking to me again.
cross my heart and hope to die [in your arms].
Thursday, March 22, 2007
you're in love with the shadows of your mind.
it's just been so difficult for you to curb your t-t-terrible st-st-st-stutter.
in a romantic state of mind on a New York street corner. you're sorry, but you just can't help it.
all you can do is lean against the streetlamp, binoculars in hand.
his curtains are open tonight.
yes, it's pathetic. yes, it's illegal. but he likes the attention and you like view.
nosleeptonight. tomorrow's not looking good either.
jetplanes and champagne. bad songs and sham pain. it keeps you awake. you think it means something. it doesn't.
'A' for effort, of course.
eyes flicker back to the window.
forget it.
in a romantic state of mind on a New York street corner. you're sorry, but you just can't help it.
all you can do is lean against the streetlamp, binoculars in hand.
his curtains are open tonight.
yes, it's pathetic. yes, it's illegal. but he likes the attention and you like view.
nosleeptonight. tomorrow's not looking good either.
jetplanes and champagne. bad songs and sham pain. it keeps you awake. you think it means something. it doesn't.
'A' for effort, of course.
eyes flicker back to the window.
forget it.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
sundaynightlights.
she takes two advil for breakfast and four sedatives with her tea...
4am. the city lights burn your tears before they can even hit the ground. neon currents flow through the air, twisting to avoid the dark alleys and the anonymous bars scattered around the block. stand in the fluorescent afterglow, wait for a taxi[dermist] to pick you up.
never forget this moment. it's the first time you ever felt loved in your life.
feel the cold rags pressed against your skin. you're soaked with gin, right down to the final sequin. you're a looking-glass girl, with running mascara and a broken set of Blahniks.
everyone wants to be a part of your depressing little puzzle.
drunk.
with.
e.n.v.y.
don't ever forget it.
blackout.
4am. the city lights burn your tears before they can even hit the ground. neon currents flow through the air, twisting to avoid the dark alleys and the anonymous bars scattered around the block. stand in the fluorescent afterglow, wait for a taxi[dermist] to pick you up.
never forget this moment. it's the first time you ever felt loved in your life.
feel the cold rags pressed against your skin. you're soaked with gin, right down to the final sequin. you're a looking-glass girl, with running mascara and a broken set of Blahniks.
everyone wants to be a part of your depressing little puzzle.
drunk.
with.
e.n.v.y.
don't ever forget it.
blackout.
"I wear scarves and hoods cause it's the only poker face that I've got left."
do you ever want to just let go and dance like nobody's watching?
my life plays out a thousand ways in my head, but it never quite synchs up with the real thing.
there's always one song that just won't get out of my head. always.
rest assured, you're not part of this rhyme scheme.
everything feels trite, cliche, recycled.
i just want to be better than i am.
(don't you know who i think i am?)
my life plays out a thousand ways in my head, but it never quite synchs up with the real thing.
there's always one song that just won't get out of my head. always.
rest assured, you're not part of this rhyme scheme.
everything feels trite, cliche, recycled.
i just want to be better than i am.
(don't you know who i think i am?)
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
too well-dressed for the witness stand.
last night, i watched your car crash in slow motion.
the headlights smashed first, sending the plastic of your front bumper flying in all directions. the shards spell your name as they disappear into the atmosphere.
next, the framework is bent to all hell. the car is rearranged as you jolt in the driver's seat.
the steering wheel explodes in a violent burst of air. the car screeches as it tries to save [your] face.
your fragile, pretty little face. the only thing you have going for you.
feel the flash of the crime-scene paparazzi. head-on collisions are the most photogenic.
what a pity, i think as i hear you shatter against the force of the airbag. that won't look pretty in the morning paper.
the tires turn inwards, perpendicular to where they once hung on the fragile suspension. burnt rubber smell mixes with gasoline. disgusting.
then i notice the flames.
the whole rear end of the car is consumed in fire. the burning pleather joins the acrid smell of your demise. whatever bodies you had in the trunk are charred to hell.
how appropos. you chose to crash and burn.
then the action dies down. the car slides maybe another twenty feet, surrounded in a morbid halo of smoke, flames, and pieces of tire.
just like the angel from hell that you are.
the doctors rush to the burning wreck, praying for a pulse. cigarette ash is stuck in a landslide of makeup and blood, running down your face.
how attractive.
and with your final breath, the final thought running through your head, your lips stutter and say:
"i bet i look like shit."
the screen fades to black. the curtain has dropped on your little performance.
the critics give it five stars.
congratulations. you officially just made death look glamourous.
more people would've come to your funeral, but everybody who cared is hospitalized or shitfaced in a gutter.
more people would've come to your hearing, but everybody who saw it happen is just too well-dressed for the witness stand.
but you wanted it that way.
didn't you?
so here i am, sitting alone, watching your car-crash in slow motion.
just to piss you off.
the headlights smashed first, sending the plastic of your front bumper flying in all directions. the shards spell your name as they disappear into the atmosphere.
next, the framework is bent to all hell. the car is rearranged as you jolt in the driver's seat.
the steering wheel explodes in a violent burst of air. the car screeches as it tries to save [your] face.
your fragile, pretty little face. the only thing you have going for you.
feel the flash of the crime-scene paparazzi. head-on collisions are the most photogenic.
what a pity, i think as i hear you shatter against the force of the airbag. that won't look pretty in the morning paper.
the tires turn inwards, perpendicular to where they once hung on the fragile suspension. burnt rubber smell mixes with gasoline. disgusting.
then i notice the flames.
the whole rear end of the car is consumed in fire. the burning pleather joins the acrid smell of your demise. whatever bodies you had in the trunk are charred to hell.
how appropos. you chose to crash and burn.
then the action dies down. the car slides maybe another twenty feet, surrounded in a morbid halo of smoke, flames, and pieces of tire.
just like the angel from hell that you are.
the doctors rush to the burning wreck, praying for a pulse. cigarette ash is stuck in a landslide of makeup and blood, running down your face.
how attractive.
and with your final breath, the final thought running through your head, your lips stutter and say:
"i bet i look like shit."
the screen fades to black. the curtain has dropped on your little performance.
the critics give it five stars.
congratulations. you officially just made death look glamourous.
more people would've come to your funeral, but everybody who cared is hospitalized or shitfaced in a gutter.
more people would've come to your hearing, but everybody who saw it happen is just too well-dressed for the witness stand.
but you wanted it that way.
didn't you?
so here i am, sitting alone, watching your car-crash in slow motion.
just to piss you off.
sigh...
i just want to sit on a roof somewhere and talk to the stars.
make the clock stop at five minutes to midnight. your skin is electric.
sometimes, i just want to let go. i want to breathe in the cool night air with someone. i want to close my eyes and forget about myself. i want to concentrate on your heartbeat. your breathing. take the focus off of me and just listen to you.
i want someone to sweep me off my feet without even trying. i want to not give a shit about what people think of us. i want summer. i want rain. i want quiet.
calm before the storm.
let's see our name in city lights.
make the clock stop at five minutes to midnight. your skin is electric.
sometimes, i just want to let go. i want to breathe in the cool night air with someone. i want to close my eyes and forget about myself. i want to concentrate on your heartbeat. your breathing. take the focus off of me and just listen to you.
i want someone to sweep me off my feet without even trying. i want to not give a shit about what people think of us. i want summer. i want rain. i want quiet.
calm before the storm.
let's see our name in city lights.
Friday, March 2, 2007
i can't sleep again.
sometimes i wonder what would happen if i just erased myself and started again. throw an empty roll of film into a dark room and see what develops.
close your eyes. tell me something new.
learn to differentiate between yourselves.
sometimes i wonder what it would be like to close my eyes and fall asleep and just live in my own head for the rest of my life. everyone's a little different, in a "same piece, different puzzle " kind of way.
they'res only a few people in this world that don't make me sick to my stomach.
they'res only a few people in this world that are worth it all. they are the people that make you want to sit back and watch the stars burn out in the midnight sky. after all, the sky is just a puddle of ink, just like words on paper.
it's all relative.
sometimes i wonder what could happen. if i closed my eyes and counted to ten, would you still be there? or would you run off like you always do?
sometimes i wonder what would happen if you hugged me. would you hug me? i doubt it.
sometimes i feel like an outsider in my own head. i can hear the echo bounce off the walls. no one is there. but i'm still unwanted.
sometimes i wish it could be night time all the time.
sometimes i just want to sit in my basement and write all day instead of facing you. you terrify me.
i'm intruiged.
i bet you're rubbing your eyes and wondering what the fuck is going on. i bet you're waking up in a strange alleyway with a bottle of whiskey in hand.
i wonder if you care.
mostly, i just want to stargaze on your roof and wonder if i'll ever get there.
mostly, i want someone to read my writing and say something. this is not meant to be beautiful. this is not meant to be a starry-eyed kid's reflection in the mirror.
mostly, i just corrode.
i want to go through the looking glass. ive got the alice in wonderland complex. everything makes more sense when they'res no one else trying to crack the puzzle. i want my own little world, where everyone understands it the first time around and words go unspoken and hearts go unbroken and everything is beautiful in a depressing sort of way.
i want to spill my thoughts on to a piece of paper, like a gory sort of alphabet soup. i want you to take one look at it and say "i understand completely."
a lot of the time, what i say means something else in my head. i feel like ive got a secret agenda, one so secret that i don't even know what it is yet. i feel like i'm hiding from myself, and to be honest, i'm enjoying the chase.
i want to finally understand what comes out of my mouth half of the time.
i want to know why i spend most of my waking hours trying to make people laugh. i want to know why i lie awake in bed, thinking of everything. i want my head to shut the hell up for once.
i want to stop being so goddamn selfish all the time.
i want to stop pissing people off with my words and my actions.
i want to stop daydreaming during awkward silences, not even noticing that the other person is uncomfortable.
i want my mother to stop telling me that she doesn't know who i am anymore. that i'm drifting away. that i'm falling apart.
goddamn it. i'm trying. can't anyone see that?
i want to break the mould. i want to be different. i want to be the best writer in the world, but all i can think about are shitty cliches and dishwater yesterdays.
i'm a shipwreck. watch me sink off the pier. cue applause. kodak moment. take a picture. walk away.
it's all over. wash your eyes in rubbing alcohol and turn off your computer screen.
it wasn't worth it.
close your eyes. tell me something new.
learn to differentiate between yourselves.
sometimes i wonder what it would be like to close my eyes and fall asleep and just live in my own head for the rest of my life. everyone's a little different, in a "same piece, different puzzle " kind of way.
they'res only a few people in this world that don't make me sick to my stomach.
they'res only a few people in this world that are worth it all. they are the people that make you want to sit back and watch the stars burn out in the midnight sky. after all, the sky is just a puddle of ink, just like words on paper.
it's all relative.
sometimes i wonder what could happen. if i closed my eyes and counted to ten, would you still be there? or would you run off like you always do?
sometimes i wonder what would happen if you hugged me. would you hug me? i doubt it.
sometimes i feel like an outsider in my own head. i can hear the echo bounce off the walls. no one is there. but i'm still unwanted.
sometimes i wish it could be night time all the time.
sometimes i just want to sit in my basement and write all day instead of facing you. you terrify me.
i'm intruiged.
i bet you're rubbing your eyes and wondering what the fuck is going on. i bet you're waking up in a strange alleyway with a bottle of whiskey in hand.
i wonder if you care.
mostly, i just want to stargaze on your roof and wonder if i'll ever get there.
mostly, i want someone to read my writing and say something. this is not meant to be beautiful. this is not meant to be a starry-eyed kid's reflection in the mirror.
mostly, i just corrode.
i want to go through the looking glass. ive got the alice in wonderland complex. everything makes more sense when they'res no one else trying to crack the puzzle. i want my own little world, where everyone understands it the first time around and words go unspoken and hearts go unbroken and everything is beautiful in a depressing sort of way.
i want to spill my thoughts on to a piece of paper, like a gory sort of alphabet soup. i want you to take one look at it and say "i understand completely."
a lot of the time, what i say means something else in my head. i feel like ive got a secret agenda, one so secret that i don't even know what it is yet. i feel like i'm hiding from myself, and to be honest, i'm enjoying the chase.
i want to finally understand what comes out of my mouth half of the time.
i want to know why i spend most of my waking hours trying to make people laugh. i want to know why i lie awake in bed, thinking of everything. i want my head to shut the hell up for once.
i want to stop being so goddamn selfish all the time.
i want to stop pissing people off with my words and my actions.
i want to stop daydreaming during awkward silences, not even noticing that the other person is uncomfortable.
i want my mother to stop telling me that she doesn't know who i am anymore. that i'm drifting away. that i'm falling apart.
goddamn it. i'm trying. can't anyone see that?
i want to break the mould. i want to be different. i want to be the best writer in the world, but all i can think about are shitty cliches and dishwater yesterdays.
i'm a shipwreck. watch me sink off the pier. cue applause. kodak moment. take a picture. walk away.
it's all over. wash your eyes in rubbing alcohol and turn off your computer screen.
it wasn't worth it.
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