dreaming of the east coast

i'll be leaving this city pretty soon. too soon or just soon enough i havent yet decided. late tonight the moonlight carved its way into my room as though it was light as day. i was sitting here reading kerouac but not a story, just his journals- him writing about writing. i need an adventure. i need the open road. i need the daily diner and nightly motel life. i need to hear your stories. to hear you. or else this is all worthless. a house filled with things that dont matter.

icantwaittogetalive.

you can have it all, my empire of dirt

i was told a tour story of bob dylan--how when you were in his crew on the road with him. when he had his hood up it meant you couldnt talk to him and when he didnt you could. it kind of made me laugh in some strange way.

but mostly it made me think.

catchin z's like they're a trend

i am a time capsule.
give me some bit of truth and i will show it back to you on your deathbed.
my eyes are always rubbed red.
every new lark has been designed to perfection- down to the wide-eyed wonder.
everything else is wrecked and broken down on the side of the road, and thats if im lucky.
lets dance the tarantella until the morning light comes round and i can see more clearly.


im always up until it gets light out. waiting.
for something that never happens.

im leaving on a jet plane, dont know when ill be back again...

when i was younger, alot younger, i went through a phase where i used to carry a letter filled with words i have never told anyone. maybe one day ill get some courage and a stamp.

love the ruiner of hearts.