January 4, 2009.
It's five in the morning, and I can't sleep. My mind is on fire with a million ideas I have to get out, and until then I won't be satisfied. I'm on the verge of exhaustion, but here's my best attempt at manipulating your vantage points with my opinions. Why do we concentrate on all of the small things in life? Why do we pour all of our time and energy into things that have no lasting significance? We obsess over outward technicalities and overlook the most important aspect of ourselves; our souls. I don't care what your argument is, but a troubled soul in a pair of jimmy chu's isn't any better off. We fixate our attention on expensive things, big bank accounts, and massive egos we can't feed. Shouldn't we be cashing our checks in a more profound way than purchasing all the traps and fittings to become some emotionally bullet-proof mannequin society? Who set our standards for beauty anyways? Who's right is it to tell us what we can perceive to be beautiful? Where have we gotten this notion that slim is better, blond is hotter, and in order to be happy we must waste our money on nip tucking our God-made perfect bodies? Shouldn't we be defining our own realities? Appearance is truly only skin deep, make-up can't do shit for your psyche. Skin withers, hair fades, and eyes slowly start to lose their twinkle. Maybe we slowly start to decay as we age as a way to remind us that what we've been slaving over won't follow us when we depart. Nothing is guaranteed, we may be gone tomorrow or the day after or the next. Life is too damn short to waste it on climbing up the totem pole of reputational success. This is your wake up call, answer it or don't. It's time we stepped out of this Hollywood persona and jump head first into a perpetual mindset. One day we'll all stand completely naked before the one judge who truly matters. We'll be bare with all of our faults and ugly demons that we ignored while we had the chance. Perfect figures will be irrelevant, and our true beauty will be on the block. Look past that face in the mirror and start focusing on the exquisiteness of your inner being, the true you.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Lie[ing] awake at night.
January 4, 2009.
They said time would heal all of these wounds.
Why am I still bleeding?
They said a new year would bring a new wind.
A new wind that blew away my self-pity bandaids.
I'm trying so hard to ressurect myself.
Why am I failing?
They said that I'd learn from our mistakes.
Why am I only learning how to miss you?
They said life would go on.
They lied.
They said time would heal all of these wounds.
Why am I still bleeding?
They said a new year would bring a new wind.
A new wind that blew away my self-pity bandaids.
I'm trying so hard to ressurect myself.
Why am I failing?
They said that I'd learn from our mistakes.
Why am I only learning how to miss you?
They said life would go on.
They lied.
Carnival affairs.
December 15, 2008.
I'm sick of these gut-wrenching worries, I don't like to constantly grasp straws.
These cleverly bending straws of hope, twisting to perfectly fit my paths.
I need a pin-straight roller coaster.
I've no need for these turns and dips, my emotions are a ride in themselves,
And I'm easily terrified of heights.
I wish with my whole being that you, would see the holes you tear in me.
Would see the paint I use to fix up my red blotched eyes from their rains.
I want a wedding march of an afternoon, with shiny-toothed bouquets.
I want a pick-me-up of 'I love you's, in this dark sea of 'go away's.
I'm sick of these gut-wrenching worries, I don't like to constantly grasp straws.
These cleverly bending straws of hope, twisting to perfectly fit my paths.
I need a pin-straight roller coaster.
I've no need for these turns and dips, my emotions are a ride in themselves,
And I'm easily terrified of heights.
I wish with my whole being that you, would see the holes you tear in me.
Would see the paint I use to fix up my red blotched eyes from their rains.
I want a wedding march of an afternoon, with shiny-toothed bouquets.
I want a pick-me-up of 'I love you's, in this dark sea of 'go away's.
Hook, line, and sinker.
October 4, 2008.
This time in our hands, slips through like it's sand.
We can't keep our heads above the sea today.
Drowning in our love along with our angst.
Learning, confidence isn't a flotation device.
This time in our hands, slips through like it's sand.
We can't keep our heads above the sea today.
Drowning in our love along with our angst.
Learning, confidence isn't a flotation device.
Unregrettable regret.
August 26, 2008.
Time clocks in more often than my thoughts check out,
I'm stuck in this cycle of faked heavenly bliss.
Those words you cast out, nearly scatter my bones.
With all my heart I ache to regret every second of this,
But you're merely nothing more than an unregrettable regret.
Eyelashes stick, thick with the black that runs.
Palms sweat, tired from winding the twiddling thumbs.
Uncontainable annoyances that spill forth of lips.
With all my heart I ache to regret every second with you,
But you're merely nothing more than an unregrettable regret.
Their ugly mocking faces turn in jeers full of pitisism.
Again, the clock dongs at the hour of inhibitionism.
The clock that times in more often than I check my thoughts.
Time clocks in more often than my thoughts check out,
I'm stuck in this cycle of faked heavenly bliss.
Those words you cast out, nearly scatter my bones.
With all my heart I ache to regret every second of this,
But you're merely nothing more than an unregrettable regret.
Eyelashes stick, thick with the black that runs.
Palms sweat, tired from winding the twiddling thumbs.
Uncontainable annoyances that spill forth of lips.
With all my heart I ache to regret every second with you,
But you're merely nothing more than an unregrettable regret.
Their ugly mocking faces turn in jeers full of pitisism.
Again, the clock dongs at the hour of inhibitionism.
The clock that times in more often than I check my thoughts.
Robobarbie drone clones.
July 30, 2008.
Envy flaunts itself in many shades, but you're looking rather ill.
A jealous heart spawns many a disease, so I'd sit this one out.
You'll soon forget your face, and you'll starve yourself to ecstasy.
Before you know it, you'll find your pride on the chopping block-
I've heard guillotined integrity is pretty popular these days.
You're just the next one hit wonder that'll never hit their mark.
Envy flaunts itself in many shades, but you're looking rather ill.
A jealous heart spawns many a disease, so I'd sit this one out.
You'll soon forget your face, and you'll starve yourself to ecstasy.
Before you know it, you'll find your pride on the chopping block-
I've heard guillotined integrity is pretty popular these days.
You're just the next one hit wonder that'll never hit their mark.
Please forgive my false regrets.
May 27, 2008.
I'm sorry that you knocked me off of this cliff that i stand on.
I'm sorry that you broke my heart and left it bleeding.
I'm sorry that you screamed in my face for attention.
I'm sorry that you hardly cast your eyes in my direction.
I'm sorry that your finger only wags and never holds.
I'm sorry that your butcher knife lips cut my soul.
But mostly, I'm sorry that I can't be sorry at all.
I'm not sorry that you knocked me down, to pick me up.
I'm not sorry that you broke me, to fix me up real nice.
I'm not sorry that you screamed, to hold me when I cry.
I'm not sorry that you rationed looks, so that you'd catch my eye.
I'm not sorry that you stuck out a finger, and followed with four.
I'm not sorry that your lips burned me, so the wound they could cure.
I'm not sorry that I love you with all that I've got within me.
I'm not sorry that I'll hold you until all the breath will leave me.
I'm not sorry that I care, I cry, I hold you on a pedestal.
But lastly, I'm not sorry that I would hate to hate you at all.
I'm sorry that you knocked me off of this cliff that i stand on.
I'm sorry that you broke my heart and left it bleeding.
I'm sorry that you screamed in my face for attention.
I'm sorry that you hardly cast your eyes in my direction.
I'm sorry that your finger only wags and never holds.
I'm sorry that your butcher knife lips cut my soul.
But mostly, I'm sorry that I can't be sorry at all.
I'm not sorry that you knocked me down, to pick me up.
I'm not sorry that you broke me, to fix me up real nice.
I'm not sorry that you screamed, to hold me when I cry.
I'm not sorry that you rationed looks, so that you'd catch my eye.
I'm not sorry that you stuck out a finger, and followed with four.
I'm not sorry that your lips burned me, so the wound they could cure.
I'm not sorry that I love you with all that I've got within me.
I'm not sorry that I'll hold you until all the breath will leave me.
I'm not sorry that I care, I cry, I hold you on a pedestal.
But lastly, I'm not sorry that I would hate to hate you at all.
My sidewalk ends at your front door.
April 21, 2008.
Rash decisions only lead to rashes of the heart, indecisive lips but dream to part.
Your hands shiver and shake with the slightest subtle touch, a brush.
Forced; my mind leaves my side and rushes to the highest mountain top of blue.
These laughing days with you, these child-hearted play-date days with you.
I can't imagine a more astounding picture, I'm not a fabricating fairytale wisher.
But I'd like to think that we could make this last, forever more and every day to pass.
Let's throw chance to the wind, along with embarressment and shyness as well.
This choreographed wave of circumstancial heart beating, of mine and yours- I fell.
Whisper feeble words to cause this soul to woo, whisper just that single phrase, "I love you."
My aspirations are mere fantasies my mind paints, but I know this ones a winner.
Take my hand, my heart, along with my down-falls, I know you take my all.
If only we would've lasted forever.
Rash decisions only lead to rashes of the heart, indecisive lips but dream to part.
Your hands shiver and shake with the slightest subtle touch, a brush.
Forced; my mind leaves my side and rushes to the highest mountain top of blue.
These laughing days with you, these child-hearted play-date days with you.
I can't imagine a more astounding picture, I'm not a fabricating fairytale wisher.
But I'd like to think that we could make this last, forever more and every day to pass.
Let's throw chance to the wind, along with embarressment and shyness as well.
This choreographed wave of circumstancial heart beating, of mine and yours- I fell.
Whisper feeble words to cause this soul to woo, whisper just that single phrase, "I love you."
My aspirations are mere fantasies my mind paints, but I know this ones a winner.
Take my hand, my heart, along with my down-falls, I know you take my all.
If only we would've lasted forever.
Hands up, hopes down.
September 5, 2007.
Trick me, pretty please.
I'm a sucker for your games.
Flash those aces and your smile.
I'm not one to fold.
Trick me, pretty please.
I'm a sucker for your games.
Flash those aces and your smile.
I'm not one to fold.
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