puppy love vs. teaching old dogs new tricks

im sensing some antidote in the way the world has been speaking to me.
but im all heart with these fingers stuck in my ears-playing scenes from my head so loud that i cant hear whats happened.

"there are plenty of fish in the sea" quip pretty fisherman on boats in stocked lakes and fish farms.
do you think about me when you see the moon in the afternoon?
"shape up or ship out"
im nailed and boarded up in a box addressed to somewhere else.
of all gods jokes, i am the most cruel- i will make you forget your head
and your rules
and your friends
and your faith

we are bricks on gas pedals.
we are the ink on forged checks.
i will make you mine and then forget you.
my head is too crowded for the company.
can we go back to how it was?
before there was a world out the front door that got off on being down.
stockpiled good fortune and am ready to wait out the storm.
i want you in my after 12am veins.
lately it all just feels like looking up through ice in a frozen pond at red cheeked families skating, carefree.
to be honest, even though im nodding off in class rooms-id rather lay my head on a curb somewhere with you than any of the rest of it.
and the universe doesnt care about luck or headlines.
someone whispered "make yourself" in my ear once.
steal me away from all of this.
make yourself.

forgive me for all the times i messed with your pretty head

actually dont.
it doesnt really matter either way.
it all turns out the same.
alphamale. omegalove.
every dog has its day and all.
but i think we slept through ours...
theres no sucess quite like failure. trust me. i can be a character witness.
dodging bars that noone can find and noone can get into. it becomes a parody of itself.

i love borat for bringing the mustache back before mike cardin could.

but the prestige makes me want to pack it all up and move to the 1800's.
id bring back walkmen with sweet yellow headphones and be like the king of the world.

dont burn me out on borat by trying to do the accent: here's a hint- you dont do it very well.


back to diary-ing....

i mean, really, how many times do you need to check your voicemails to realize noone is calling.
put me down or fix me- but more like a cat or dog...
had a dream where i picked orange leaves from blonde hair in moonlight.
and im left forever edning signals back to you in black night.
gotta run these words are terribe at best, ill be back to clean up this mess. i need to go to sleep not to read more,.,. or maybe not.

change comes from our heads, not our pockets

been writing in the real journal lately. paper and ink.
I have to ask myself, howd you get yourself turned so inside out?
this city feels like a lull.
in weather, in love, in time, in life.
'all you sensetive thugs need hugs'.
i can love you in hour increments.
i can give/take all your problems back/away.
i want to be bright enough to blind you.think of all the love i have behind my eyelids waiting for you to wake up.

dream fast. wish hard.

truefuckinglove.

My hands are cold, would you give me your g(love)s?

we accept the love we think we deserve

stay in love, fall in touch

Id rather have cancer than a dishonest heart.
Which isnt being pious. Just practical.
Cancer may cool you, but the others sure to.
Oh, screw it cookie--hand me my guitar and I'll sing you a fado in the most perfect Portugese.


I feel infuriatingly left out--a tugboat in drydock while she, glittery voyager of secure destination, steams down the harbor with whistles whistling and confetti in the air.

Stick around long enough and everyone becomes a parody of themselves (see also: if it could happen to the egyptians it could happen to you).

As Egyptologists cast open tombs they serve as gods like isis welcoming history back to life.
it seems strange to think of the way that the very thing that gives me life, oxygen, tears through these tombs and disintegrates heirlooms that have lain in shadows for thousands of years. youve done this 27 times before, youd think youd get the hang of it by now- a night spent in your room alone realizing how you always change tense mid-thought. If you were at a hotel, youd order room service for two because you don’t want the hotel staff to think you could be this alone. Youre only as old as you feel. Then put a toe tag on me that reads “who cares”. At some point you realize Its all a game of “this” or “that”. now vs. then. "Better off" against "worse for the wear"- you know, id rather be a widow than a divorcee. Maybe that’s just me. I just wanted to feel a part of something. You cant blame me but at the same time you probably should. I sat and stitched this Frankenstein relentlessly but you gave it that final kiss of life. The years are starting to take their toll. The miles show in the form of smile lines around my eyes. Some girls should get fixed like cats. Though I love the way she has memorized a list of canonized books that she tells people are “her favorites”, even though they are pretty much just off of a list of “customers who bought this book also bought” and so on. She watches the history channel and acts like it gives her the license to input “facts” into every phone conversation I ever have. When its late at night she says things like “I feel like im walking on air”, and besides being obvious and derivative I also happen to know its not true. because ive seen the kind of shoes she wears and she always has to take them off if the car is parked too far away. Id hate it but anything sounds okay coming out of her mouth. Youre only still staring because in my mind I am reloading. Or this thing is fucking stuck in the chamber. Stutter. Its on the tip of my tongue. Cant think of a single fucking segue. I wish my ego and my libido would trade places. I wonder how the pharaohs would feel if they realized they never made it across to the other side. They are sitting on the third floor of the natural history museum. Forever. If I die before you I hope they bury you alive with me. In my head that is how I love you.you dont hate me, you hate the part of you that is like me. i cant sit here and ride my flaws until the end. im not sure i am thinking clearly but i just want you to know that i waited on your calls all night- they never came. i just wanted to say i miss you or im sorry or you know something that would have meant something to you. i would have made it poetic and memorable or at least something you could laugh at while drifting off to sleep. always trying to relive the glory days. i dont care how poorly these sentences were constructed or how in the light of day i will wish i had not written them- right now i can only curse the fucking light off of this stupid western city because it wont ever get dark enough for sleep but otherwise how could you guide your way back here?
my head always feels warm right before i pass out, i always worry that there is something wrong and i wont wake up or you know i will. promise me that you wont take anything i ever say too seriously.

dying is what makes life feel so damn important

i only wish i could mean more than the hair raising on your neck or the angel and devil on whichever shoulder you choose. peter pan afternoons in the breeze of the suburbs of chicago. i hope were your mayflower. i hope were your plymouth rock. black magic and all. lets make a pact. it always starts with some small "i" and ends with an apology or "im just seeing the world"- i need to become me. you know what i mean? if i dream, i hope i dream of this.

blue pills / black nights

history has proven that
you can put despair and loneliness on play/repeat and it will go on forever.
and if its loud and bright enough it doesnt matter how much money you have to buy the things you want or how brilliant you are told you are or how the right girls smile at you or how the best cameras flash at you.

it is all you will hear or see.

if i could do this all over i dont know that i would have called anyone at all.

everything reminds me of you. i have to keep this city awake. sleep soon i hope. i only remember the things i planned on saying after i hang up the phone.

i pack heat like an oven door.

as i run away from everything i have ever known. just whisper in my ear:
"and the tears come streaming down your face when you lose something you can't replace when you love some one but it goes to waste could it be worse? Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you High up above or down below When you're too in love to let it go But if you never try you'll never know Just what you're worth Lights will guide you home"

so obvious. so much more brilliant than i could ever imagine to be.

be bright and shine. its dark. im sorry ive come so off course.
tell the pilot to clear us to land in your backyard.

plain jane and the boy next door.

there is one single pair of eyes that could ever decode any of this.
put another "x" on the calander. summer is on its deathbed. there is simply nothing worse than knowing the ending- that no matter what curve balls or uphill battles come your way- it still turns out the same. last year it was stripes and pumps, this year its dancefloors and you. she keeps talking, i keep staying the same. did you ever change your mind about someone and then just realize it was a fucking haircut. put me in a frame on your wall, just to keep me out of trouble. i gotta say i admire mcr for being willing to change themselves completely on their new record. they could have just made a safe record, the same old same old. but they didnt. its like when the ad campaign rolls out everyone is smiling and at their best even if they are not sure.
an affectionate friend told me everything i ever needed to know about anything. "freeze! put down that fucking laptop!". everything is always either digging a hole or digging yourself out of one. and just when you have it all figured out you should just sift through your pile of "never again"s. quite a collection. blow off the dust. im sure they will be worth something to someone sometime. its buzzing in the back of your head and out your fingertips. pull back the shade- the road outside of my house is paved with good intentions. but it is hell on the undercarriage of the car so we're gonna have to hire a construction crew. i wonder if anyone else thinks of you as much as i do, even you.

"If I should call you up, invest a dime
And you say you belong to me and ease my mind
Imagine how the world could be, so very fine
So happy together... "

a mutual misunderstanding. kaleidoscope eyes sparkle on pillows in the dark. and i dont care what anyone thinks of that except me. put the love on hold, anticipation is on the other line and excitement called while you were out.

imagine me and you.....

i am your best imaginary friend. (white lies, gray love).

at the end of it the only thing that we are promised in life is a hole in the ground. sometimes it gets you through the rough patches just to think that you could change someone. it makes you love them to think that they would change for you. but like i said before its more like the james bond series than anything else- different actors, same character. same shitty dialogue, same shitty songs for the same hearts. and anyone that says any different is a goddamned liar or worse, is just too much of an optimist to pay anything mind. talking to you is like selling fire in hell. it can be done, but youre probably gonna have to tell a few white lies to make it happen. and anyone that changes only does it in front of your eyes and changes back when in the blackness of their own room. anyone can paint a gutter to make it look like gold. it only feels strange when the paint washes away. "love me with your head, not your heart". cigarettes on window sills. i love the way the smoke curls off. it makes me think we are in a period piece until the lexus hybrid drives by the front of your house. its efficient, just like you. when you are thinking about the first place where it all went wrong- please keep me in mind. you are ancient history- whichever side of this sentence you are on doesnt feel so great. you lob reassurance at me only im playing a different game. sometimes you just want to know that all is okay with the world and that you can sleep tight. only it never is when you need it to be. i keep talking and never say a thing. sleep easy. be well.
i am still. i cant think of a single thing. it hits me like a wave. get me out of my mind.
"ransom notes keep falling at your mouth
mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outsspeak no feeling no i don't believe you
you don't care a bit you don't care a bit

i am a sentimental pessimist, dont believe the fucking smile ever.

love,

xo

i miss calls but i miss you more

i dont want her to know that i dont want to know

darling why must you tell me such things

you think youre a boat in a safe harbor when youre with me girl
but youre really a bull in a china shop

black holes and revelations.

i wrote a really long entry. than i remembered what you said tonight.
i realized nothing except more things that i dont know the answer to.
ive been giving up on myself one heartbeat at a time.


all these questions are asphyxiating.
i wonder if my life is like Mcbeth
where all the people that fill the rolls are cursed from the moment they speak the name.
and of course everyone dies in the end.
oh bill you were so melodrmaric

the sky is strange half a world away.

i cant wait to get home to you.

hangin up phones & breakin up bones since 1989

Of all the minorities-born into, joined, and otherwise-of all the private clubs and subcultures, love is by far the most exclusive.

and we conspire against ourselves. ("are you lying?" only if her lips are moving).

you spend every waking moment and many sleeping ones thinking of one heart, one person. you let it slip, they let it slip. who knows where it all begins or ends. but as it falls to pieces you keep grabbing them and collecting them less like for a museum of things that used to matter and more like you are going to keep putting it back together. except there are always a few pieces missing each time. deep breaths. slow your heart beat. the road winds. there was a time before you always felt like this. try to remember. you are being pulled in every direction. everything is bigger under the microscope. you want it to be simple. you make it complicated. "hello- i am middle ground. how come we've never met before". sometimes i wish i could re-engineer the path from my heart to the tip of my tongue and let my head have a shot at it. i dont have big dreams, i just want to be okay. it comes down to my word versus your word versus the worlds word and i dont think i want to anymore. im worn out. my head is full, my eyes are empty. i am a mess and have no idea, ever. i am constantly reminded of how much better i could and should be, and jealous of it, from the children on the street walking hand in hand with their mothers to the homeless man content with his world of a bench. and noone knows the way i spend my nights counting the individuals grains in the tiles in the bathroom, the coolness of the floor the only comfort- or if anyone does they dont want to hear it, i cant blame you... i dont even want to hear it anymore. in the mornings the world is blurry. it comes in and out of focus. this is when its the worst. when i awake from a dream to realize that none of it was real, possibly ever.

one of the only things stranger than realizing you are along in this world, is realizing that you are not.

pupils the size of baby worlds.

every bad decision is put on file for later viewing. mapquest your way back to me, take a turn for the worse and then continue for .5 miles. i want to file a restraining order against myself.
and i want to be myself again looking at my reflection in your eyes from the first time i failed you. i am nostalgic for disaster. i want it back.

he sleeps sound. he has no care for what buzzes and changes in the world around him.
because of this i envy him.

runing away from a city because of one single heartbeat. it doesnt make sense.
its not that i dont trust you, actually it is. and i dont trust myself when i think of you. i sell myself out.
i wish you were awake right now. i just want to let myself be happy

since j.t. is bringing sexy back, i guess i am out of a job. is borders hiring?

what is the opposite of amnesia? because that is what i have.
sometimes i cant find my way around my memories.
i have to take detours.
i think you were the best one.
its like it was never really going anywhere and alot of breakdowns but really it made for the best trip.
its strange to land here and be completely out of place.
but at the same time not really.
i never really felt like i understood anything anyone was saying anywhere. so how different can this be?
its like it always was.
i have affection imprinted deep inside my head.
its why am always on the verge of love or giving up.
or thats what i am convinced of today- tommorrow it will be something new.
dear drugstore cowboy, the chemical balance is a bit off.

its 7 am in california, 11pm in japan.but my head is always on central standard.
how are you gonna get your way out of this one?
baby you are a canary and i am a coalmine.
the moon is out and its convincing me, it has me all kinds of crazy.
maybe will just go to sleep and wake up on the summer sheets i grew up on.because how could any of this be real.

"answer the phone, i know that youre home. i want to get you alone...."

heat makes for the strangest of thoughts

the only inevitablity in life is death.
from the moment we are born we are slowly dying.
it is the only thing that remains constant.
how horrifying.
time to go outside and play.

a little life, alot of death (i want to be known for my hits not my mrs.)

i should probably not be typing in this mood. i wish there was a lock on the keyboard. it is too enthralling in a state like this. just like all of this has always been. the world around me has changed as if overnight. "for someone so smart you are acting pretty stupid". i cant focus on but like three thoughts in my head but i am compeltely wrapped in them. they keep me warm at night. i pray for something to crash into me and smash me back to something more simple. i pray for fistfights so i cant be knocked out and wake up in the e.r. i wish for disaster so i can be razed. im telling you if i could do any of it again, im pretty sure i wouldnt.
fuck your life under the microscope.
fuck your conclusions.
you have no idea.
it never got me anywhere but here.
over and over again.
every single time.
i wish for five months ago. and not in the way you would imagine either. "you are unfixable". my eyes are washed out but they dont feel clean. they are strong you know not the athletic type, but could definitely used to carrying heavy bags. im guessing in any real light i will delete this, apologies in advance. whatever caption is written next to the picture is the exact opposite of me. i am mapless. you are caught. lets go out and get forgotten.

bad news travels fast. and i am the worst of it.

i will always remember the day i met you.

"leave you feelings in your heart boy".

we used to talk on the phone every single day (nooneknowshowitreallygoes).

its strange the way people will window shop on your life or score it for style and grace.
my personality and everything about me is just a carefully constructed collage of magazine articles and flashy pictures.
i am (not) real.

sometimes the days spent all by myself in my head are the scariest.
its enough to make you want to pack it up and call it a day.
all i can do is read and write and wait.

ihavecodedmessagesforyou.aretheygettingthrough.

the last thing i think of before i fall asleep and the first thing i think of when i wake

regardless of what stars i end up under- for the best and for the worst- you have made me who i am. and i try to make myself more decent and better only because of you.


haveanicelife

sex and the city (the part theyll never tell you)

its strange here this time of year. because the weather never changes.
it is always summer here. so it doesnt feel like the same desperate love of these three pages on the calander. or at least not what i am used to.
sometimes the worst wishes are the ones that come true.
yellow and white lines to the coast.
you can learn to love anything if its around enough.
some people learn to love their mistakes.
shakes hands. "thank you, our time is up".
what keeps you coming back?
i got a long rap sheet.
(the statute of limitations is running out on you pretty fast).
the powders wet. the sparks arent coming.
the hammer isnt hitting. its spinning.
you can learn to love anything.

my phone cuts out in the same place every single day ("the gospel of gossip").

dear 310,
you can truly think yourself to pieces.
writing too fast for you to keep up.
and why would you want to anyway?
true oranges and sedated blues.
or is it the other way around?
i am millers paris. she is always humming. i hate it.
i wish for autumn. i am always thinking of breath in the air and leaves burning somewhere. somehow i attatch it to feeling okay.
in a running home from school kind of way.
just as easily as you run away from your problems, you can run home to them.
moodswings have kind of become protocol around here. like something you have to cross off of a checklist and then have your supervisor sign.
there isnt enough breeze in the suburbs tonight.
i imagine them to be like italy sixty years ago, only with less flamboyance and wider streets.my head is sticking to the pillow like sleep doesnt want to let me go.
writing alot lately. its like i always just want to mean something, something more than me.
its getting old.
i want to be more.
you make me want to be more.
to be shot out into space or to discover a cure to something terrible.
you cant denie, there is something nice about chicago. calming.
where your waiter is just your waiter and the doorguy is just the doorguy. not the place where everyone wants to be something they're not.
not as thought it matters but it feels safer.
she looks at me like she knows how fragile i am.
but i, we, all have inside of us continents like he said. vast and lush. full of guns and loves.
like the two were different by definition.
but they are the same. linked if only by the way that you will always remember your first ones.
then she said, "many african cultures dont believe in the concept of future".

fuck your futures.

friends that lay together, stay together or how the thoughts in my head go, unfiltered.

forgive me for not showing more remorse- apologies were never really my thing- outside of feeling sorry for myself. the last nail in your coffin got stuck in the mail. youre gonna have to wait. until then focus on love below the waist. they say your head can be a prison- consider this a conjugal visit. my dad calls girls he dated back in highschool "old flames"- like it makes them feel better in his own head. he always asks my mother if "he's still got it?" but would anyone answer this question with a "no", like ever in history? its like i can't think of myself getting older without thinking about the way my father is 30 years older than me. theres not much that terrifies me more.

if i ever freely gave out the details of any of these events- theyd fucking lock me up and throw away the key. but thats okay as long as the place has 24 hour room service and a stocked mini bar.

everything everwhere is a roll of the dice. and the best way to make it through life with hearts and wrists intact is to realize "two out of three aint so bad". except when you throw a hail mary and its not caught. dont bet it all on anyone, ever, except yourself.

ive got alot of "Friends" but only two or three friends. you wouldnt like me if you saw the inside of my head but you might love me anyway.

everyone sends everyone the same lyrics as though they were written exactly for their hearts. but they werent. they were written because someone had a mortgage to pay.

noone owes me anything. no empathy or truth, little trinkets or kind words. at the end of the day im just a boy. and i know that. im okay with that.

she is a STARVINGmakeupARTIST. we exchanged sloppy kisses in the rain until i realized that she was only in it for the rain.


"tell the world to leave me the fuck alone, ie "please find me a home"..."

im pretty much just a lawyer with the way im always trying to get you off

i dont mean to have you worried or troubled. its the last thing i want. never take anything i ever say too seriously. youd need a search party to track my moods. who knows where they went? i guess this doesnt make sense. but in some strange way this is me saying thank you for always being there on the other side of this monitor.

i am watching reality bites right now.

the most exceptional thing about you is how ordinary you believe you are.

i want to be kept.
i am a bull.
she is a china shop.

the fraternal order of the handsome boy.

ive been watching you from afar
my breath on the inside window as you walk in from the car
candy caned lies in red and white against clashing patterns bending in and out of understanding.
"youre the stranger ive been dreaming of", stranger than any ive ever known.
love through a telescopic lens. when the air is clear i can see how perfect you are for me.
late at night when the city sleeps i cast a spell on you
to make you think of me the very same way i think of you.
i only love how the words feel in my head when i write them.
fireworks over the valley. how can i tell you i gut people for a living.
that everything you say is likely to end up as evidence when i rewrite history.
over and over again.
how everything you do reminds me of something else, someone else.
how im humble and arrogant at the same time,
chased and never caught.
that i just want to stay up late and wake up early to talk to you.
that i want to show you all of my jealousy and insecurity and have you not care.
youre like a light switch and i just want to turn you on and watch them all shrink away.
the words come out of my fingertips on impulse. it is instinct. my head cant keep up.
i envy the comatose. i admire the bedridden.
i am addicted to the way i feel when i think of you.

"im blowing smoke rings around the moon...."

i wish i was the exact opposite of how the world knows me.