March 2013
1 post
3 tags
December 2011
1 post
you often feel embarrassed about what you write and expose in poetry and prose and the wind blows and blows and blows… but you’re indoors. it’s just a draft, sneaking between a poorly framed window and making its way onto your sheets giving you no place to hide your feet.
you don’t remember when you last laughed.
November 2011
1 post
paintmepetrified asked: This isn't a question. You are one of the best lyricists i've heard/read. your music and words make me happy in an "it's ok, someone else is sad as well" kind of way.
October 2011
2 posts
try to forget but instead you stay up all night thinking just thinking and you’re reminded by things that you shouldn’t and everything is attached and connected and maybe a sign but probably not a sign and sometimes you look through the perfume shelf at the shop and sometimes you draw lines on maps and sometimes you write letters and throw them away and sometimes you sit by the phone...
catch my breath in a gust, the metal heart, and its rust. bouquet whispers are hushed by the leaves that are crushed. there’s an autumn breeze that punctuates our days. the hurt, it leaves, but the longing stays.
September 2011
3 posts
Anonymous asked: Additionally, I'd like to let you know that your lyrics mean a lot to me. I know that they probably weren't written under the happiest of circumstances so I hope things get better for you. You seem like a very genuine person and you deserve to be happy.
you worry about the length of your legs. you worry about the part in your hair. that you are going to go bald. you are sure your hairline looked different before. you apologize to your body for what you had done to it in the past. you secretly apologize to those who had to see it. you wish and wish and pick up feathers and you loved an insect and eat less and walk and try to laugh and you cook...
laid in my bed in the dark in my room in my house in my town in my state that is not your state not your town not your house not your room not your bed and listened to your tape that i sent but i remembered the songs so i could listen to it and feel like we were listening to it not in the same place but maybe at the same time and the seconds would only be slightly off almost an echo that’s...
August 2011
11 posts
be free with me.
“my point is, we’re romantics. it may hurt now, but i never stopped chasing her; and i’ll never stop chasing her.”
familiar words and a familiar phrase time feels blurred in familiar days slept through them to avoid the malaise love is rare and deserved of praise it isn’t a phase, wait and see who stays
someone asked me if i would write their wedding vows.
am i
a fool
to think
those songs
are about
me?
my dreams are full of love. the kind that unspoiled, starry-eyed youth feel. free of the hurt and ache provided by obscene perversions, the cynical nature of the former romantics, and the ravages of deceitful, selfish lovers. just love.
home doesn’t feel like home anymore.
if you rub my back for twenty years, i’ll rub your feet for thirty.
you are who you are and if that’s who you are my mouth holds no piquant taste you are who you are and that’s who i adore if you were caged, i could never be free you are who you are and that’s who i desire
dream lovers are comely, yes — but a true lover, someone that accepts you as you are, that is something beatific. i search my clothes for a soupçon of your balm, and i find it. wedged between two articles on the upper sleeve of something i do not remember wearing. i am careful to not to allow it be exposed for long, lest the perfume fade from it’s fibers.
the pictures and letters are...
they are not without name. they come for our love, but it is not theirs to take. they gnash and they tear, but they can only hang on. the edges can scarcely be frayed. they long to make it feel as a struggle, but staring into their eyes only strengthens their resolve. i do not wish to validate them any more than just to recognize them. if love feels hidden, we merely need to pry their fingers...
July 2011
7 posts
the world has such a dreadful and terrible side that i wish you and anyone else would never have to see. i wish i could erase it and let the grass grow back over the paths to it in our minds; in our souls. it keeps me awake at night. we’re far too delicate and lovely things to be trapped in a world of damage and dirt. i want to be better than glue. i want to be “free”. i want to...
everything seems different now.
i may as well go out on as high a note as possible.
1 tag
beauty was not meant for me
those golden hued pictures are lies; memories that left before they were mine. pretty girls with sweetly scented oily hair, white teeth, and thin legs; i know — it’s not fair.
let your lips meet mine while you’re still young… please, count my teeth with the tip of your tongue. your love could erase all the songs that i’ve sung....
i wish you to be as you were.
what do you see when you think of beauty? what do you see? tell me. i know it is not me.
1 tag
i sang to the ocean about you, but the roar of the waves and wind that blows through the dune grass drowned me out. it crossed my mind that i should sing it below the surface, but my voice is less than inclined to carry well through water. i’ve sat sweating through these summer days. i’m hesitant to wipe the beads from my brow. if i let them stay and evaporate, will they turn into the...
June 2011
2 posts
1 tag
i have little doubt in my mind that you are magic. that you’re made of the same things that make the dew drops on grass on an early summer morn. the same things that helped gardenias to grow along a path in the woods to delight a passerby. the same things that turn the world yellow after an afternoon thunderstorm. the same things that soothe bodies in the night. the same things that make...
as much as i fawn and pine over them, i despise the beautifuls.
May 2011
1 post
April 2011
1 post
1 tag
those golden hued pictures are lies. girls with oily hair and toothy grins and thin legs and maybe even a loose shirt. boys with cuffed jeans and immaculate facial hair patterns and desirable bodies. they make me believe there is a different type of world out there that i am yet to experience if i could only catch up to it. or slow down for it to catch me. it doesn’t matter. there...
March 2011
3 posts
1 tag
what solace there must be in being young, thin, and beautiful!
in clean clothes and open roads; with the breeze in your hair and life without care.
poor, ugly, and pudgy; i only look forward to an end to this hurt and the sound of a shovel filling my nostrils with dirt.
1 tag
“washed up on a cold creek bank”
the words, they scathe, the critics are frank
face the crowd not there to thank
an illusory vision of a life that sank
the shore is a set, the creek is a tank
1 tag
i am just a pill you swallow
in a lonely bottle i wait and wallow
my capsule body halved and hollow
chased with the tears that always follow
February 2011
1 post
1 tag
i had a dream i was 18 again.
i walked to my mailbox and there was a letter from my 25 year old self in it that said:
“california isn’t worth the heartache.”
then: sad but true. now: keeping me blue.
January 2011
1 post
1 tag
“i’ve been eating for you”
and i’ve been beating this tune
to death
to death
trying to figure out what it means
when our love’s gone dull and life’s lost its sheen
December 2010
1 post
1 tag
if you don’t think love is the ultimate goal, then you’re missing the point.
who cares if all i write about is heartache and loneliness,
no one’s going to read it anyway.
they’ll leave just like you’ll leave.
communism doesn’t mean there’s enough love to share.
socialism doesn’t mean that your love can’t be private.
capitalism...
November 2010
17 posts
1 tag
love’s labor
sitting with my head on a windowpane feeling like nothing will ever be good again. that nothing will ever be as “good” as it “was”. i’ve heard “it gets better”, but i know it never does. how can i believe what’s romanticized in books when i’ve really known is love based on looks? should i just leave “well enough”...
1 tag
T.S.B.T.E.H.A.M.
a nose that’s full of snot v. a voice that’s shot. a life of “have-not” v. “have-fucking-not”. a single room, no food, and heart full of strife v. a house, a car, and a lovely/thoughtful wife. would i get that for leaving the wandering life? i’ll probably end it with a knife. - this is an invitation to a pity party, but before you...
1 tag
(breathe such vows as lovers use to swear)
i finally did it, although i hate to admit it. i found validation in self deprecation. i taped a pretty face on this book to hide the “sorrow-soaked” lines that it holds inside about the three friends who tried and who sighed. now one’s left, one’s gone, one’s the reason i write…
“i just want to lay down with...
1 tag
walked myself to the end of my street a place i’d hoped we’d one day meet the pittered-pattered pain cloud that hangs over my head only serves to hide the noose that hangs over my bed
is it “flame to the moth” or “moth to the flame”? it feels the same, i hate this game, forget my fucking name. i’d rather cut the fucking ties than watch you live between...
1 tag
two months past june you made your mark sing a tune to you in the dark instead of hearing your snark-y-tone on the telephone we don’t have to feel so alone we could own the things that lovers own my feverish skin could heat your sheets in rooms so dim is where we meets
1 tag
love.
no love, love.
no.
love.
love no love.
love, no…
love love looooooooooooooooooovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,
no.
love.
no love.
no…no. no. no no. love.
regrets
regrets
regrets
forgets we mets.
cassette
my pet.
smash my head.
burn my bed.
what i said.
live or deadeadeadeadead.
streetlight...
1 tag
at night’s when i dream (things are just how they seem) about your feet wrapped in socks (and my gut’s filled with rocks) and it seems so good (and my heart’s where it should - be) pretend to crack an egg on my good knee. (you and me. you and me. you and me.) going to bed makes it real (as does the dread that i feel) i should have known (i’m always alone)
1 tag
frowning fortune
how many more lines until my pen runs dry? how many more sighs until my lungs just fucking die? if i were more verbose would i matter to you? if i won you over, would i get back the life i “knew”? i feel ugly now, just like i felt ugly then. i might have even felt love, but i can’t remember when. february through august of two thousand and four? god, it’s...
1 tag
the prisoner
is it really better to be lost than found? just to keep on writing words to a hopeless sound? just to make myself feel worse every time you come around? just to tear my fucking throat up and keep staring at the ground?
i’ve kept on asking “why me?”, when i really should be asking “why NOT me?”
please, please, will you tell me about your dreams cos...
1 tag
desperate decline
there’s a line in my head and it’s been there all week, it goes “i’m still wanting my face on your cheek”. it could have been my fault, but in time you’ll see that i believed in love… it did not believe in me.
it was a world that couldn’t work. it was a world that wouldn’t hurt. it was a world that i couldn’t find...
1 tag
dreamt a little dream of you
last night i dreamt that if i ran hard enough and jumped high enough, that i could just fly away to a place where i could live out a life less cliche.
i’ve got a plan to convey who i’m trying to portray: elliott, jeff, matthew, chris, steven, emily, charlyn, and wes - it’s cos we wanted to know the exact same thing: what does it take to finally...
1 tag
it feels like one of those mornings after i graduated where i stayed up too late and always hated that i was talking to friends that i would never ever meet and i listened to the same fifty songs over and over on repeat and drank far too many cans of caffiene and wondered if words that were said were ones you really mean and trying to smile but my lips are too chapped
i can only go so far before...
1 tag
wrap your troubles in me
bring me to AC, she’s better for me. the sun and the sea, i won’t die, i’ll be free (was it meant for me?) so young or so adult, just throw me in the san andreas fault. on the way there i heard “walkin’ in the sand”. can you hear me scream? wore gauze as bracelets in a troubled dream. it killed me to hear you say “you’re one thousand miles too far away.” L-O-V-E from you...
1 tag
i wrote a record for you and scratched “i love you” in the grooves, but you never listened, so you never knew. it never left my walkman: that tape from you. i was mining for a silver lining and i wore that fucker out from the constant rewinding.
i wish that i didn’t walk with a slouch.
how many times have i slept on this couch tossing and turning, wondering “why am i...
