You wanna know?

Saturday, January 29, 2011

inside and out

we were something, weren't we?
you, with your gapped-toothed smile
me, so young and naive.

I would've followed you
to the ends of the earth
if you had told me too

but our roads split
forked out, different direction
both into oblivion
you sat and stared off
never wanting to make a move

I was happy, happy, happy
to move along
fast and far, far away

never realizing you actually stayed
in the same place
where I left you.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

biting into the beast and then the travels of the abused mister.

I'm comfortable with the noise coming from the trains, loud and clear inside my head. Vibrant like the sun, setting hills on fire
animal carcasses scattered in the desert. Stories left untold.

I'm biting into the beast!

watching lines form around your divine eyes, a skull filled with cigarette ashes. remembering back in time of a booze fueled night of senseless romanticism.

I'm biting into the beast that calls my name, night & day, night & day.

I'm comfortable with the noise of these loud trains
inside my skull and your heart, which is a black hole sitting in the middle of your chest. You've learned how to pick and gather leftover love, dismissed and broken on the side of the road. Making love like loud and sloppy animals; tore up from the inside. You've learned to travel down dead end streets and I'm watching you slithering like a snake across your bedroom floor. I'm watching you with Neptune rose colored daydream eyes.

I'm watching you
watching you
watching you
biting into the beast that tore the flesh off of your own self respect.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

casting spells (unfinished)

pushing to shove
got more love
than anything
I've ever known

the last stand

the hurricane arrives
just in time

clocks push forward
rhythms move in rhymes

the misery loves company
as the clowns drown in sadness

compose and propose
as the feelings escalate

shadows fix themselves
upon your walls

time moves forward
regrets nothing

push and pull
until you've become something

a dance
a song
a flash in the pan

kill it while it's still moving.

remnants of a lost conversation while standing on the corner at 2am

theres this heat you see,
that spreads through my chest
like an infection, see
whenever i feel as if
i've said too much.
like,

getting too heavy on words
on feelings
on thoughts
on anything,
really.

and then there's this thing
you know,
that happens
when you realize you were wrong,
wrong
wrong
all along

and no one said a damn fucking thing
to your face
but behind your back
they're experts on everything

but you know,
it's worth the prize
when you learn to stay and fight
see,
cause I don't lose that often
and when I do
it usually never turned out to be worthy, you see?

I'm good at this.
some say I'm the best.
I've mastered the impression of a thousand personalities
and I bet you can't guess
which one I'm using now!
ha!
you're a fool, a damn bloody fool!

I told you, I was the best!

wait, listen..where you going?

master of nothing

my truth sits inside your arms
curled up on your chest
in the early hours of a cold morning.

my truth hears things loud and clear
when I've given up
on being so deceiving.

alarm clock rings loudly in my ears
a sound I'll never hear again

I opened up this void inside my soul
pretending I am living
pretending I am real

in the early hours of a cold morning
curled up and lost inside what I wish was true.

something for the lovers and leavers

nothing sweeter
than rejection

needles spread across the chest

nothing sweeter
than feeling empty
left on the sidelines

nothing sweeter
than death
than karmic retribution
than arms holding you down,
holding you back

i promise,

nothing is sweeter.

half and half

10am & a $10 breakfast of tasteless scrambled eggs & sausage, $2 black coffee w/ 2 sugars in a fancy cup. Seated at a table in the corner by the window so I can watch people on their way to work or appointments. Eat the breakfast quickly while my mind is somewhere else. Someone could easily have been my stand in, it would've been just the same.

Finish the last of the coffee, finish the toast, leave the eggs & sausage and I don't feel guilty. Make my way to the car, travel down the pothole streets of LA, find a parking space, wait in line.

Lines, always lines to wait in. We're all in line waiting for something, all the time it seems.

You make eye contact with strangers, people you have never seen before and will probably never see again. People with funny smells, people with fucked up faces, people with beautiful smiles and horrible personalities. People who think they know everything and speak the loudest and people who have the most interesting stories to tell and are the most silent.

I'm a stranger here, a ghost even. Maybe I died in my sleep last night and I no longer exist. No more waiting in lines, no more tasteless breakfasts, no more brushing my teeth, doctor visits, dmv appointments, sitting at my desk staring at my computer.

someone calls out my name and snaps me back into this place.

damn, I think to myself. I'm still here.

shift

How can you miss something that never belonged to you in the first place?

Do you have the right to feel anything if it was not yours?
Should you express your opinions about it, if it is not yours?

I don't want to feel anything. I want someone to remove this heart, so I don't feel a damn thing.

He moves throughout his day, she moves throughout her day. Both in different places, emotionally and geographically. But he moves like a ghost in her head and she is just used to this sort of thing. She contemplates wearing a different face, altering her image, choosing her words wisely, sharp & direct.

Someone come and take this heart out, remove memories and make me free again.



my eyes close, my mind stops and for a moment I pretend...

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

recording movements in the dark

licking the burns, inside and out.
All curled up
like a fetus
not
quite
ready
yet

open wounds and future burials
I was born for this
into this
with this
Desirous of all things bad for me
Creating scars is my thing
it's my hobby

hope cures nothing
and the future is always unfolding
and I am fine with living inside my illusions
Everything filtered through rose-colored glasses
mirror image and all fucked up

scars,burns, bullet holes, scrapes
and everything worthy
of this battle
are all magically
wrapped up
in this warped existence

I choose not to resist this!
I choose this perfect storm!

braving this shit weather
for the opportunity
to exist inside
this corroded space
I share with you
and only you.

facts and complications

listen he said,

you're pretty
you're amazing
you're something not of this world

my brain stopped for a moment and recalled a time when I was very young and people would stop and stare at the curls in my hair: wild and shiny.

They'd say,
"she's so adorable"
"she's so cute"
"what a beautiful little girl"

Listen he said,

you're complicated
you're crazy
why do you make things so difficult?

One can never be too simple
One can never be too complicated

I'm walking this line here that seems to go on forever. This infinite line of who to be, all the while everyone is collapsing on the outside and on the inside and they're all pointing fingers at me and I am failing at being a servant to plastic personalities and I am failing at caring for everyone's rules and thoughts set upon me and I am only walking this line that I've created. I'm going to set it on fire one day...

Listen, I say:

fuck you

thoughts like caged lions.

the misplaced events of your youth
staring into the eyes of truth

last call, lost loves and spinning in circles
imagination lit up and spread like wildfire
sex in the morning: the brightness of imperfect flesh

this does not exist.

mutual admiration, respect and shared secrets.
the uneven flow of things
the lack of and the wherewithal

the corrosion in your smile;your personality
flaws and perfection
impractical and logical
ties that bind, like handcuffs, duct tape and rope.

(I can't breathe)

I am watching this, you, us from a distance and it's all so simple
but complicated, still.

crash and burn, crash and burn

meet you on the otherside.

Sunday, January 02, 2011

pome for lovers.

we're going to burn
this city, this place, these emotions
this room, this life
burn ourselves into another dimension
find ourselves
diving deep into the bottle
only to
float back up
and out

breathe deep!

its gonna come close
fast
hard

and all over your face.