Still Spinning...

there's nothing i can find that can throw me into retrospect quite like this. watching the world just keep on going.
you fell down, but the meeting still went on. living in a bubble never got her anywhere.
you broke a string during a johnny cash set. sorry, my dear, but he's still dead.
you didn't answer the phone to hear the news. but it still happened, weather your dead or alive.
the river still flows. the sea's salt water still stings.
the bird still chirps. the cat's claws keep cutting.


see, you've moved on years ago, e pur si muove.

Life Through The Glass

with my hands clenched tightly to the window-sill, with my eyes wide open staring at the sun,
i sit.

my view is broken by 2 white pieces of wood sitting perfectly perpendicular against my dusty window of glass. i open my mouth, only to find that the window has become fogged. with the tip of my finger, i wipe away the moisture. it's on my finger now. swiftly, it starts to disappear. mouth. window. finger. mouth. window. finger.

i scream, unheard. i blink, unseen. outwards, i reach my hand, painfully untouched, i contract it back. i touch my cheek to know i exist. even inside a world of windows, i can't truly see. everything has a rainbow glazed over it's colors. when it rains, it leaks. when it snows it blocks. a greenhouse with no plants. a dome i call home. big white blankets draped over all the chairs. comfort never looked so dry, so lonely, so unused. i see them walk, they talk the drive. they don't see me, here in a house made of glass.

one way mirrors never did any harm. some one on the other side? please don't ring the alarm.

love, and some verses.

wake up, it's no use pretending. the snow from the igloo has melted. the shoulder you'd lean on has grown strangely cold. your fur-hood coat has to face the sun. your eyes see the building, now it stands up straight. now we all, us three, will ride.
evicted as you are, you see a boy with a coin, a pagan angel and a borrowed car. such a weary memory. the innocent bones inside your fingers, reach out to grab the keys unfamiliar, the shiny silver circle, and the hands that hold them so carelessly. our endless numbered days are fleeting. were down to 16, maybe less.
promise what you will, but i know where my end will be. in the prison on route 41, naked as we came. i'll be there surrounded with iron and wine, cinders and smoke, waiting to see them fly away on your wings. i'll kiss them goodbye, i anticipate no reply. i know the end will be broken enough, but to expect some hope, that may be too much.
me my self and i, we'll walk upward over the mountain. waiting for the rooster's moan and the lion's mane to wake me in the morning. too soon we've faded from the winter. the sun rose in the east and stayed there too long. maybe, if were lucky, he'll sneak away. he'll hide behind a cloud or two, go visit the moon and the stars in the west. as i said to myself and me, if i leave before you, darling, don't waste me in the ground.

The End.

i found out how to fly a soul. i knew the twists i knew the turns. there wasnt much else for me to learn. when i dropped the map, i wound up here. the age-old desert, between danger and uncertainty. danger is uncertain and uncertainty is dangerous. but with the sand in my eyes and the heat on my skin, i never put much thought into this limbo i call home.
what is a home but a place you rest? what is rest without peace? what is peace without chaos? what is chaos without peace?
nothing.

so thats what im left with. searching this sand for a neon sign. some way to show an oasis is near. or maybe just a drop, a neon sign is all i need. a faint memory remains, of those wings spread so wide. the fire that burned below, not of destruction nor hate. a fire that burns of the better days, a fire that burns in my heart. a fire always fed by the heat of this sun. this sun, this sun, this blinding, burning sun. asleep before its gone. asleep when it returns. im not the one who went to the moon. and if i was, i wont return soon. there's not much i remember about life before death. but i know it was well-worth forgetting. flashbacks dont show you things to come. and their words, swiftly coming undone. not a note of the song, not a page in a book, is stored in the head of this being im in. just a pile of sand, with the desert augmenting it everyday.

the thoughts in this head are shifting ever so slightly. just enough to not see straight, small enough to fool a bug. a bug smaller than i does not exist. sand is big sand is dry. these words are drifting, and soon am i.

sucker love is heaven sent.

every you every me - placebo


this might just be the most twistedly correct song from any album i've ever heard. no, its not the truest. but it is the hardest truth that placebo has ever faced me with. it takes the statement "love is heavensent" and with one word, makes it something so different. i know sucker love. i lived sucker love. and i loved sucker love. eventually, i puckered up and my passion was spent. not only does that show the weakness love shows when just sucker love, but it also shows the full lack of love in it at all. the fact that any passion can be spent completely eliminates any chance that real true love exists there. "every me every you" <- that is screaming how common this is, how selfish it is, how distorted it is, and strangely, how much we desperately need this "sucker" love. i should stop getting every idea from itunes, but its okay for now. before a love song for no one, john mayer shows the most extreme contentment. yes, hes tired of being alone, but he knows it'll happen when it happens. that is love. this isnt a patient song. but its not a nonpatient outlook.


Sucker love is known to swing.
Prone to cling and waste these things.
Pucker up for heavens sake.
There's never been so much at stake.
I serve my head up on a plate.
It's only comfort, calling late.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.


-OR-

Searching all my days just to find you
I'm not sure who I'm looking for
I'll know it
When I see you
Until then, I'll hide in my bedroom
Staying up all night just to write
A love song for no one



honestly, i like the ladder alot better. but without the first one, the second one just doesnt mean as much, not as much passion, not as much clarity. cause maybe, your gonna be the one that saves me and after all..your my wonderwall.

where do they all come from?

definition.

eLEANOR rIGBY: (n) not quite a proper noun, but still existing. she's the blurred forgotten face that represents the many many people we pass everyday. one of them wants to be president. and another one, she just got new shoes and is only out to show them off. and that guy on his phone, yeah, he's not really talking to anyone. BUT once upon a time, someone's disapproving eyes told him that it wasn't okay for him to be alone. SO, he picked up his phone and hurried along the sidewalk, pretending he has somewhere to go. and then theres you..
i dont expect to know your story yet, but i dont trust you to know it either...if you were to put yourself into that description, you'd know too much. only the observant bypass can affectively THINK they know who you are, make obscene inferences about your life and thoughts just by rubbing shoulders with you in a crowded city. we all know more than we say we do, we all care about more than ourselves, and we all do it for one reason and one reason only.

im assuming you know your reason. now, if i were passing you on the street, would i know it?
make me know it, make it run through you like blood. no matter what your taking in, let it out like carbon dioxide. i want you to prove me wrong. im so sick of thinking i know you all so well. but i don't blame myself. i blame you and everyone else. when you give me nothing to begin with, im forced to think i know everything and anything about you. show me who you are, and stop letting me (and everyone like me) take you for just another american idol reject, beauty school drop-out, Father McKenzie, or worst of all, eleanor herself.

future black-holes

It's either Reading got darker, my eyes got sharper or the stars got brighter.
(i honestly dont care which)
but, stars are showing more than themselves these past few days.
luckily, i share a room, a house, an acre, with people who go to sleep hours before me
i see more stars, stars see more me.
i fall asleep yearning to watch them again,
i wake up disappointed.
the sun is too common, to blinding, to big looking
i like little-looking lights that you have to stay up late to see.
i also have a thing for alliteration.

understanding? not a chance.

because it can either get caught,
or i'll just let it slide.
i could write it all down
or i could watch it fly up.



that "up" is no preposition. please, dont be mistaken. its a description of how it could fly.




its not an object that i speak of above.
its mearly a sentence, denying a love.
it was thrown between a desperate attempt
to save your skin, and maybe to tempt.
perhaps it was a mistake, your chasm-forming leak
the four small words, you dared to speak.
the rest of that night is labeled a blur,
and im sorry good sir, but its what i prefer
and you took it as nothing
but to me, it was something
i guess you'll never know,
and to you i'll never show,
what an impact you made.
if only it was me you'd serenade.
i hear you play a chord or two,
but the words you sing, all turn out a slew.
and it wasnt to me and i'd known it all along,
still, the pain, the noise, the end, i was trying to prolong.

perspective.

because once and a while, i drop the world drop. i let it hit my toes as it rolls around the room. i watch it bounce off walls and get stuck in hidden corners. but i always run to catch it when it starts going out the door. i sit, holding my feet, smiling down at my home. i watch them all just walk around, not knowing i am here. they go inside houses and come out not hours later, with hair all done and nails still wet, if only they knew how silly they looked. i watch them all hiding behind buildings and wearing colored wigs, i see them spilling drinks, words and themselves, onto streetcorners and allys. they pass out for days, but i know they'll get up sooner or later. then if not i pick them up, with the tippy tops of my fingers, and i drop the softly down to where i know they should be. it's true, im no longer "under the weather," but when your drool counts as rain, it doesnt really matter.

change of vocabulary.

I want to replace all my IF's with WHEN's. and all my THINK's with KNOW's.

Here's some examples.

yeah if i go to the mall, i want this shirt.
yeah, when i go to the mall, i want this shirt.

two extra letters; much more life.

i think i know what to do.
i know i know what to do.

i never really understood the difference between these two sentences, and trust me, i still don't...but because everyone else see's one, im sure i want to be on the side thats saying KNOW instead of the side that say's THINK.

anyways, please correct me when i dont follow this through. im a work in progress, and i KNOW you are too.