shuffle along

i can't remember what is wrong. we got a lot more to go. i put a trash can by the road and filled it up just to lighten my load. i got nowhere to go. someone's alone, fell asleep on the phone, waiting like a dog for a bone. a fish in the sea can feel like it's completely alone. the world may never know.

i woke this morning deep in the earth, laying there with the granite and the moss. i was met by the sun. it was then i saw you there, down on the street my love. such a long way. no one to comfort you, to tell you you're needed. what's there left to believe in? so i signaled off to the high and crumbling moon. closed both my eyes and crawled under the sink. i felt you in my arms again.

we can't ask how. crowds jump to their death from the bridge as i walk by tonight. the whole jist of it there as we fall. you're not expected to know why in such a short time. and there are stanzas never meant to rhyme. we've marched so long. and we've much farther than we've gone to go.

this is not my day. and nobody really cares anymore anyhow. nobody called again. cause they said i'm too lazy to stay alive. every day it's another world and every change of tomorrow hungover and hungry to fix it. a miracle cure for my sorrow with pillows of  self-esteem. alone in a satellite dream. but i can't forget about a world where every beam i choose is shining alone on you.

all i wanted was a chance to say i would like to see you in the morning, rolling over just to have you there would make it easy for a little bit longer. but here, closer every year, so near the fear is coming clear. hottest summer in a hundred years, but summer didn't bother getting up this morning.

slipping on through the sensors, tripping over rails and fences made in the mists and the abyss. superheroes fighting crime with love and broken fists.

i can't stand to see your picture on the dresser where i left it. another sunny day and you're miles away. i could stand to be a fixture in a faded family picture. but i can't see the sunset. all i know is that you'd be perfect right now. you'll come to stay in my arms, you'll come sway in my arms. who cares if there's a party somewhere, we're gonna stay in.

ariadne sleeping - the clientele

listless

tree house
indoor swing
job worth waking up for
someone else worth waking up for
more time to be creative
more will to be creative
a breakfast croissant
nicer fingernails
nicer fingers
more musical talent
motivation to do something with what small shreds of musical talent i have already
beach
beach
beach
beach
beach
beach
beach
beach
ocean

cautionary tale

some days, it takes all of your will
just to feel indifferent.

roald dahl is muh fraverite

I began to realize 

how important it was

 to be an enthusiast in life. 

He taught me that 

if you are interested 

in something, 

no matter what it is, 

go at it at full speed ahead. 

Embrace it with both arms, 

hug it, love it and above all 

become passionate about it. 

Lukewarm is no good. 

Hot is no good either. 

White hot and passionate 

is the only thing to be.

roald dahl

my uncle oswald

smooth liquidation, good dividends

lash out,
irresponsibly.
look as
hardcore as
it feels inside.

as deviant
during the day
as awake
at night.

rough edge,
rough edge,
roughage.

scars,
cars,
black lines
under skin.

wear your art
heart
start
smart

on your sleeve.
distortions behind
glass. holes
assholes
to fill the holes.

fly in a jar
no honey or vinegar,
buzz buzz buzz
wingbeat repeat.

throw yourself
against the wall
over and
over and
over again,
might get you
out sometime.

holes, needles,
burn words
into your skin.

feel something
with this body.
this body so used
to feeling
nothing,
nothing
physical
anymore. or ever.

back to back-
door rebellions,
window slip

and slick
quick
lies
like silver,

mercury beads
off the tongue,
poisonous,
expanding.

flux licked
lip drip.
quick trip

lights off
lights on
no covers
just coverups.

she drop,
drop,
drops.

pools red
in a fool bed.
dirty boots,
natural roots.

11 o' clock
desk shimmy

in the work chair,
scratch the itch
that's not there.
not there where
it can be...

scratched.

its all in skin,
beneath skin.
buck with a whim,
instead of against it.

it's fly
or die,

but

the ink
runs dry.