She said "I wanted you to be there" and I couldn't apologize and admit that my jealousy turns me into some sort of sulking fucking baby at times. There weren't fireworks that night, though I wouldn't be totally sure time spent in black outs sure wish I could black out my days that easily.... twenty long hours since my last cigarette... I'm still waiting for Jenn to call me back and ask me to go to the prom with her. Ten years to the fucking day... There is a seam being split in the firmament and I bet there is a poet writing much more poignant lines at this very moment as I emulate and infringe on so many copyrights.
I want it so badly just watching her sit there and put her arms around his shoulders. It feels so good to be the one receiving someone's affection sure but it feels comparatively worse watching the object of yours two steps away from fucking some other guy. I'm not too proud to admit that there will forever be regrets resting in my heart which will remain until it stops...
...a little honestly wouldn't have killed me in retrospect but a little honesty sure as fuck will kill me now.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
And You Thought You Owned This Shit...
My good friend will also opine to us all on the greatness of life's lesser known deities. Every day he tries to learn something new about the esoteric. Such disgust practice! Yet I too engage in awful habits of sleeping with the past every night going back in time in my dreams. We need new things that would fit in so well with the past cause anachronism is the new black and cliche show kids own the night!
Fold your arms after applauding the poet boy! How we can look so pious as the laughter dies down? So swoon cynic, we ate this shit just for you to nod your head and think how right you are, how right you are! When you were so busy dotting "i's" and crossing "t's" we were passing out while you were passing out the rules and now you sit atop your castles laughing at us fools, "sharp dressed kids own the night but we own your 9 to 5's don't you forget!"
Her hair sticking together from the vomit coming out of her mouth. You told me we are made out of the same shit stars are made out of and I just shook my head and laughed cause we're more dead than those stars are creeping like corpses between jobs and commercial breaks. Tell me the music makers and artists are your kings well go ahead and try to serve two masters claiming you own the night before your head hits the concrete.
Some of us age better than others. Some of us make better wages than others. Some of us will forever be looking back... it's always better when you weren't really there and who cares if we own the night seems right, most of the world is sleeping on us anyway.
Fold your arms after applauding the poet boy! How we can look so pious as the laughter dies down? So swoon cynic, we ate this shit just for you to nod your head and think how right you are, how right you are! When you were so busy dotting "i's" and crossing "t's" we were passing out while you were passing out the rules and now you sit atop your castles laughing at us fools, "sharp dressed kids own the night but we own your 9 to 5's don't you forget!"
Her hair sticking together from the vomit coming out of her mouth. You told me we are made out of the same shit stars are made out of and I just shook my head and laughed cause we're more dead than those stars are creeping like corpses between jobs and commercial breaks. Tell me the music makers and artists are your kings well go ahead and try to serve two masters claiming you own the night before your head hits the concrete.
Some of us age better than others. Some of us make better wages than others. Some of us will forever be looking back... it's always better when you weren't really there and who cares if we own the night seems right, most of the world is sleeping on us anyway.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Last Rites for a Hardly a Person
The craving just kills me
Watching them dig hands into pockets impatiently waiting around for something, anything. I want to be in love for free, not having to just dip into our wallets to put smiles on our chapped faces. Listen to him fall apart and sink lower as he always does...
Sun kissed legs launching a thousand lust filled vessels and I remember how you pulled me closer and whispered in my ear "I'm fucked" well I didn't get to drink anything tonight and I never smiled with my teeth showing afraid of the fire that's inside of my stomach that's just burning away at me
t-shirts coldly sticking to our bones
Watch me confess everything, fall apart, well it's apparently apparent we're all miserable and ready to die, so I took a bird into my hand I pressed hard but he still survived and despite our struggle we still can't get the smudge of our filth to stain the carpets, discharge. blood comes out. it's okay, I want to die dear god but I guess I'll just float until I die and you'll tisk tisk my lack of selfless sacrifice all the way down to his goddamn bowels...
Watching them dig hands into pockets impatiently waiting around for something, anything. I want to be in love for free, not having to just dip into our wallets to put smiles on our chapped faces. Listen to him fall apart and sink lower as he always does...
Sun kissed legs launching a thousand lust filled vessels and I remember how you pulled me closer and whispered in my ear "I'm fucked" well I didn't get to drink anything tonight and I never smiled with my teeth showing afraid of the fire that's inside of my stomach that's just burning away at me
t-shirts coldly sticking to our bones
Watch me confess everything, fall apart, well it's apparently apparent we're all miserable and ready to die, so I took a bird into my hand I pressed hard but he still survived and despite our struggle we still can't get the smudge of our filth to stain the carpets, discharge. blood comes out. it's okay, I want to die dear god but I guess I'll just float until I die and you'll tisk tisk my lack of selfless sacrifice all the way down to his goddamn bowels...
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Damages Etc.
The miracle of such staggering aptitude, how your teeth rattle with every falling bomb. I'm frightened said the former child, clutching her blanket close to her chest let everything slip to the floor collecting in piles as finger nails split open dirt dirt dirt collect the bones from the grave she'll wear it as a bouquet in her hair oh calling all the dreary people let's just stitch and bitch a quilt made of all the fucks we never gave, I just want to watch your skull come apart into pieces blasts of human shrapnel cutting us to ribbons. Are you in love with the sick princess? I'm sorry that Vicodin doesn't come in XXL, a pity to see you crush so much dust and sniff it all up sugary sweet down the back of her throat and I want some girl, I really want some just open your mouth up and puke the nasal drip down my throat and we'll go whistling through the graveyard tossing sterile syringes to the blood thirsty crowd. We like it! We love it! We want more of it!
...I'm just going to mope in my fucking room...
...I'm just going to mope in my fucking room...
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Spider Veins On Once Perfect Legs Pt. 2
Reach on down now sweetheart
Southern more like microphones
Pick up every breath
Every sigh
Every lovers moan and writhe
It's so exhausting
Every thing is such a drag
We wait for hours and still
Still laying down watching TV
Those spider veins on once perfect legs
Take a look at the mirror and pat yourself on the back
Cause you didn't let some sour prick
Bring you down
Enjoying being alive seperatly
Nothing wrong with getting along
In two different places
Without words
We all get older
And I still hate myself
Yet far less far less than before
And I hate you still
Yet far less vehemently
Than I did before
Why not just let it die?
Hows that for closure?
Southern more like microphones
Pick up every breath
Every sigh
Every lovers moan and writhe
It's so exhausting
Every thing is such a drag
We wait for hours and still
Still laying down watching TV
Those spider veins on once perfect legs
Take a look at the mirror and pat yourself on the back
Cause you didn't let some sour prick
Bring you down
Enjoying being alive seperatly
Nothing wrong with getting along
In two different places
Without words
We all get older
And I still hate myself
Yet far less far less than before
And I hate you still
Yet far less vehemently
Than I did before
Why not just let it die?
Hows that for closure?
Saturday, June 16, 2012
More Men Remembering the Girls Who Made Them Cry
It is so silly to think that boys are allowed to cry
I mean really, why do my salty tears matter to you?
You cry every time you get drunk and call me up
Wasted and upset about everything, whatever, fuck you
Why didn't you come over then?
I'd love to just have you laying around waiting for me to fuck you
I'd love to pretend like people are tailor making love songs for us
Salty and saturnine faces squinting in the Summer sun
Long pants and hoodies in July
I used to love the punk rock scene
But now I'm totally over it
She doesn't answer oh well
It's good reason to drink yourself to death
And the artists' true dilemma is always rehab and sobriety
How am I supposed to not give a fuck if I'm always sober?
Do you ever watch drunks with such sullen envy?
Do you ever watch television and reel in nostalgia?
Like if you agree, I'm tired of people asking for my opinion
I'm tired of watching my fellow man seek out validation
It's not funny, it's not even sane, it's just kind of silly
Bedhead all night, drinking and thinking
About all this: stupid shit
I can't sleep when I'm halfway to a black out
I just stumble around shift restlessly in a filthy bed
No sheets and no cigarettes, I'm fucked
Nothing to watch or consume
Just some shitty music and muttering
Eyes shift and dilate and sobriety seems like death threats
Muttered lazily by some strapped overly muscled
Greek god looking motherfucker probably an actor
Or a prostitute
Probably an actor or a prostitute
With frosted hair and perfect eyebrows/complexion
Standing around with a drink in his hand
Talking to girls and eyeing all the boys
I hate the night life
I hate sharing my misery with you all
It's something precious to me so I'm done with the hand-outs
A lot of people are going to the city
To get drunk enough to ruin any possibility of getting laid
At least this time around it's my fuck up not yours
I'm just saying I've been talking to men who can only remember
All those poisonous girls who made them cry
I said "sorry I'm just depressed"
It's the best excuse I ever thought up, I don't want to get out of bed
And I said her name while I sang a song of such jilted
Acheing
Shitty
Hearts
I've been reminiscing with my shit head friend
I guess I really was that high
I kinda forgot man, that's pretty funny
And you laugh because it's pretty easy
To just ignore the awful truth
That I wasn't then what I am now
And I'll never be who I want to fucking be
It's frustration and masturbation that go hand in hand it seems
I just tug and tug and fantisize
...and nothing fucking comes out.
I mean really, why do my salty tears matter to you?
You cry every time you get drunk and call me up
Wasted and upset about everything, whatever, fuck you
Why didn't you come over then?
I'd love to just have you laying around waiting for me to fuck you
I'd love to pretend like people are tailor making love songs for us
Salty and saturnine faces squinting in the Summer sun
Long pants and hoodies in July
I used to love the punk rock scene
But now I'm totally over it
She doesn't answer oh well
It's good reason to drink yourself to death
And the artists' true dilemma is always rehab and sobriety
How am I supposed to not give a fuck if I'm always sober?
Do you ever watch drunks with such sullen envy?
Do you ever watch television and reel in nostalgia?
Like if you agree, I'm tired of people asking for my opinion
I'm tired of watching my fellow man seek out validation
It's not funny, it's not even sane, it's just kind of silly
Bedhead all night, drinking and thinking
About all this: stupid shit
I can't sleep when I'm halfway to a black out
I just stumble around shift restlessly in a filthy bed
No sheets and no cigarettes, I'm fucked
Nothing to watch or consume
Just some shitty music and muttering
Eyes shift and dilate and sobriety seems like death threats
Muttered lazily by some strapped overly muscled
Greek god looking motherfucker probably an actor
Or a prostitute
Probably an actor or a prostitute
With frosted hair and perfect eyebrows/complexion
Standing around with a drink in his hand
Talking to girls and eyeing all the boys
I hate the night life
I hate sharing my misery with you all
It's something precious to me so I'm done with the hand-outs
A lot of people are going to the city
To get drunk enough to ruin any possibility of getting laid
At least this time around it's my fuck up not yours
I'm just saying I've been talking to men who can only remember
All those poisonous girls who made them cry
I said "sorry I'm just depressed"
It's the best excuse I ever thought up, I don't want to get out of bed
And I said her name while I sang a song of such jilted
Acheing
Shitty
Hearts
I've been reminiscing with my shit head friend
I guess I really was that high
I kinda forgot man, that's pretty funny
And you laugh because it's pretty easy
To just ignore the awful truth
That I wasn't then what I am now
And I'll never be who I want to fucking be
It's frustration and masturbation that go hand in hand it seems
I just tug and tug and fantisize
...and nothing fucking comes out.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Spider Veins on Once Perfect Legs
I once held her mirror up so perfectly
Seamstress, seamstress
Sow me into your pockets my fingers
My love handles so perfectly sown
Into the most handsome shirt ever
And I saw an image pop up on my television
Jump up on her tippy toes
Tippy toes
And plant such love sick kisses
On departing lovers
Sometimes it seems like I'm always
Always rubbing that ointment
Over spider veins on once perfect legs
She used to go swimming
She used to have her nips
Just popping right up above her sports bra
Sexy can I?
Oh give it a fucking rest
She hates it when she gets dope sick
He hates it when she's such a bitch
Sometimes lover
My hand gets so tired
From holding up that perfect frame
To your pretty portrait
Prostrate cancer
Cihrossis of the liver
Drake songs with satanic overtones
I spend all of the Spring
Being moody and talking shit
Well darling
You could call me back
So I'll finally have the chance
To say
Fuck off but it comes off of my lips as
I love you
Oh shove off...
Seamstress, seamstress
Sow me into your pockets my fingers
My love handles so perfectly sown
Into the most handsome shirt ever
And I saw an image pop up on my television
Jump up on her tippy toes
Tippy toes
And plant such love sick kisses
On departing lovers
Sometimes it seems like I'm always
Always rubbing that ointment
Over spider veins on once perfect legs
She used to go swimming
She used to have her nips
Just popping right up above her sports bra
Sexy can I?
Oh give it a fucking rest
She hates it when she gets dope sick
He hates it when she's such a bitch
Sometimes lover
My hand gets so tired
From holding up that perfect frame
To your pretty portrait
Prostrate cancer
Cihrossis of the liver
Drake songs with satanic overtones
I spend all of the Spring
Being moody and talking shit
Well darling
You could call me back
So I'll finally have the chance
To say
Fuck off but it comes off of my lips as
I love you
Oh shove off...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)