January 2010
How I looked at you, before we knew. how, at one point, i had no idea what you could feel like. that you would taste so sweet.
now i know. now my curiosity and patience paid off. you look so good in gray.
you’ve told me twenty-thousand things before. twenty-thousand things. and I can’t remember just one. the things I said this morning, might as well have been: I miss you. I don’t say anything, because I miss you.
Now, just leave me alone.
hm.
something smells fishy;
might just be the government.
expectation is such a drag.
It seems that when you try your hardest not to cry, you cry.
waterworks, crawling down your cheeks. reverse effect. staycalmstaycalmstaycalm keepbreathing,don’tstop
but there it goes. prevention fails and my blood is boiling.
there’s a possibility that i could kick you from my mind i don’t want you scratching my insides-out; you’re hurting me show that i’m not gonna take it.
all these things rolling from my vocal cords, stampeding your emotions. there’s a possibility that i could break you. show that you’re not gonna take it.
you’re kinda sexy, but you’re not really special.
i like you so much better when you’re naked.
we are all going to hell. sing with me, now.
what is it that hasn’t expanded my horizon. an internal speculation that I’ve never sought out to find. In the back of my mind, you are kept tucked in like a spider in the depth of a hole waiting for a tug at its webbing.
a satisfactory of the collapsed feeling of no disappointment. i will spill my heart to you. i will rip it open. and let you in. because you are me. it is okay.
I don’t see anything at all. I don’t want anything at all. parallelism. conquered.
we don’t feel anything at all.
oh sweetheart,
You’re just a class act.
“why do you love me?”
i’ll never have an answer, that will be just right. maybe it’s because you’re this natural high, for me. something better than a shot of tequila or bowl of mango kush. i’m sure that isn’t what you want to hear; you being compared to inhibiters.
why do I love you?
maybe it’s because you drive me wild without driving me wild....
you know, sorry mom, sorry dad.
this won’t be the year i try out for american idol. i will only be 18. i’m still too young.
“Your place will not be replaced, but gradually disappearing.”
– Es sólo el viento (via brokenmachine)
this is for you.
I can feel you, even though you are not here. I can know you are behind me, running your fingers through my hair, whispering: baby, come back to bed.
i’m in the mood to taste you right now. i want to be the pressure you are feeling against your abdomen.
it’s worth pretending. i can feel you, even though you are miles away.
i am not much larger than i am, myself. i am not much smaller than i am, myself.
i guess you could say that i was born to show the power of love. to show the rest of the world what it is like to know happiness from a lower class point of view. to show them that the power of god really is power itself. it has even taken me years beyond years to recognize it. it took an angel to show me my way. and to prove to me, what happiness could be from thousands of point-of-views.
i am...
song i've been working on.
we’ll take a bus out to san fransico yeah, that’s where we’ll go our village isn’t loud enough and everyone is out of touch so to san fransico. to san fransico.
i’m this little pretty frankenstein going crazy, out of my mind my body’s built from pieces from other little misses.
i’m this pretty little ballet dance that didn’t get the new york chance...
you were never anything special. what sanity harbors in your mind; kill it. take flight, you’re way past over due.
say my name, i just want to hear you.
i still feel that i should have started playing harp when i was a child. i know of no one that plays it. it would make me special.
hoboken, no jokin'
A green plastic watering can For a fake chinese rubber plant In the fake plastic earth That she bought from a rubber man In a town full of rubber plans To get rid of itself She looks like the real thing She tastes like the real thing My fake plastic love
i pray that something picks me up.
