True.

I fight it.
I beg and plead for it to
Leave me alone.
I don’t need or want you here.
Stay out of my house.
I’ve done fine without you
For this long.
You’ve had chances and they’ve ended in:

A) Empty beds
B) Late nights
C) hospital visits
D) All of the above

No more chances.
I’m comfortable here.
I know what to do here.
But,
At the end of the day,
I just want to be in love.

Tape 1

Woke up to
The bright flash
From a dead heart wanting
To make something
From
Nothing.
She used to be beautiful
In the same way I used to be
In
Control
Of
My
Emotions.
The sunlight through
A grayscale sky
Or
Vice
Versa.
How do I explain
Where I left all of the bodies
To the police when
They find
Me?
Its inevitable.
They will
Find
Me
Faster than I
Ever could.
Probably because I want to
Be
Caught.
Right?

Mother and Son

You never say sorry on the weekend when you get too drunk with all your best friends. You missed my phone call, I know that, you told me, but I’m tired of sleeping alone in this bed. So, I’m leaving, and don’t say goodbye because I know that you’re full of shit.

All those bottles of wine, I don’t think you realize how disheartening it is to love you. I spend every waking moment worried about who may be kissing you back because I know it’s not me, thinking back. So, I’m leaving, and don’t you dare cry because I know that you’re full of shit.

Your face stays the same so I can never tell when you’re lying through your teeth. We play this game so constantly that I should know that I can’t be sure of anything and you’re stumbling now, over constantans and vowels and all the pronouns you throw around…I’m leaving, so tell “him” and “he” I say “hi”. I always knew that you were full of shit.

White

Sickly, the way the cold wind kisses your face, but it’s the only thing that shows that it loves you these days. Blankets, no thanks, it’s too hot inside when it’s cold outside and you really just need your space. You’ve got your TV and all those books you mean to read, but honestly, can we be honest here? You don’t mean to do anything. A constant accident. A constant toe to the doorframe. Its stings but you can’t get mad at anything. Lonely, but not really, you’ve got all those video games and you’re so fucking high all the time recently that you don’t even have the energy. Distance is a constant curse, but not in the way it used to be. Kiss like summer and sleep like fall. Kiss like a brick. Fuck, you just wish someone would kiss you at all.

Comfort

I was so much more comfortable there with that blanket over my eyes.
It was so much warmer. But now I feel the cold and I can see the world for miles,
and comfort is just convenience and the putting-off of things I know to be true.
So we could have lain in that bed I built and made mountains from the sheets,
but I watched your chest raise and lower to let in ships, I watched mine sit in piece.
I know something about finding out. Its the curse of the thirst for knowledge.
I’ve seen clouds on fire and buildings fall. I’ve had planes crash in my mind.
I made it for the better even though it should have been for the worst.
I sat in those white rooms and I filled myself with words.
Words don’t move buildings, not mine anyway,
but they could inspire giants to lay this town to waste.
I was so much more comfortable there, in between those sheets,
but comfort is an illusion and now I can finally see.

To the bones.

She’s like a sunrise or sunset in the way that she’s as beautiful as she is fleeting. Her penchant for orange really just helps this analogy. She kissed like the rain, which is fine at most times, but when you’re saying goodbye you kind of hope for the ocean. “Kiss me like the Pacific”, but the closest she can get is the cold shoulder off the Atlantic coast. I walked away wondering exactly what just happened and how I could, for all intents and purposes, feel nothing but a sense of relief. I loved her but not like you do when you’re in love, or the closest you’ve come in your young life. It was more like a good movie. No matter how much you love it you can only watch it so many times in a row before you see it for what it really is. Fake. But you can’t be upset because at least the movie presents itself as such. If communication is key then you’re just fumbling with locks all day. I’m a windstorm and you’re flickering like a flame. This is a case of words presented as action. (“Your honor, the state would like to call Indifference to the stand.”) I need something tangible. It’s never the ocean.

1/21/08

I’m a broken radio or television or something else. I guess I’m saying that, sometimes, I just can’t connect. I feel like my seams are showing, I’ve got such obvious threading. Cut here to make me unravel. I’m like a time bomb in that you never know which wire. (Correction: I never know). I go back and forth between blues and greens while I sweat and sweat and hear nothing but the beeps and beats. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and I’m gone. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and I just go on and on. I don’t know how to stop. You’re magic like a movie and I’m just indifferent like indie rock. Let’s take over this city. I’ll write my name on every ticking clock. Cut here to dismantle these bones. Cut here and I’ll give up everything I believe in but hope.