Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Where are my friends?
Dylan is in Brooklyn finishing his last year at Pratt.
Bryce has been living in Florida for almost half a year.
Josh moved to Philly a few months back.
Louis has been living in Denver for a few years now.
Bobby just got locked up for three months.
Dan moved out west to California.
Michelle moved into a lonely apartment in Bethlehem.
Dave and Rickey are probably moving to NYC in the spring.
At least I still have Billy, Jesse, and Sara G to hang out with me. But how long will that last?
Almost all my friends are gone. Maybe I should be gone too?
Dylan is in Brooklyn finishing his last year at Pratt.
Bryce has been living in Florida for almost half a year.
Josh moved to Philly a few months back.
Louis has been living in Denver for a few years now.
Bobby just got locked up for three months.
Dan moved out west to California.
Michelle moved into a lonely apartment in Bethlehem.
Dave and Rickey are probably moving to NYC in the spring.
At least I still have Billy, Jesse, and Sara G to hang out with me. But how long will that last?
Almost all my friends are gone. Maybe I should be gone too?
Friday, September 18, 2009
My dear,
It burns. It burns. It burns every time we cross paths. Even a day a week feels to much sometimes, and yet it's always to little of time between us. I feel haunted by the months passed. You successfully fucked my outlook all together. I won't look at another one the same. I won't even give anyone different the time of day. You were the only one for me. I let myself go these days. I let my beard grow out and the rings under my eyes grow darker. For the mere fact that I was hiding this face from you. Hiding my true emotions, that you so positively masked. It's time we break this never ending chain that has plagued me. I can no longer drown my sorrows. Good day to you, darling. Stiff upper lip.
The one you dragged down, Mark.
P.S - You're liquor marks my stomach, just like your glass cuts my lips. Miss Whiskey, you've done more than enough for me.
It burns. It burns. It burns every time we cross paths. Even a day a week feels to much sometimes, and yet it's always to little of time between us. I feel haunted by the months passed. You successfully fucked my outlook all together. I won't look at another one the same. I won't even give anyone different the time of day. You were the only one for me. I let myself go these days. I let my beard grow out and the rings under my eyes grow darker. For the mere fact that I was hiding this face from you. Hiding my true emotions, that you so positively masked. It's time we break this never ending chain that has plagued me. I can no longer drown my sorrows. Good day to you, darling. Stiff upper lip.
The one you dragged down, Mark.
P.S - You're liquor marks my stomach, just like your glass cuts my lips. Miss Whiskey, you've done more than enough for me.
Monday, August 24, 2009
A pretty pen with a vibrant blue ink made for the cleanest, blank page. Dancing words across each extended line from side to side. With the most beautiful of vocabulary, these words explain two characters. One, a fine gentleman with a false affirmation that can woo almost any doll. Our second character is a gorgeous young lady as gullible and green as they come. A story of "love" for the girl, and just another notch on the bed post for the boy. A foreshadowing of reoccurring events. Lessons are never properly learned and sly tricks will continually be pulled.
This pretty blue pen's ink is wasted on crumbled up love letters torn out of tear soaked notebooks. Honey, just bust the pen open and let the ink stain your clothing. Just like he left that miserable moment in your memory and that stain on your sheets. Drop your thesaurus and stop trying to find a thousand ways to say "Heartbreak."
This pretty blue pen's ink is wasted on crumbled up love letters torn out of tear soaked notebooks. Honey, just bust the pen open and let the ink stain your clothing. Just like he left that miserable moment in your memory and that stain on your sheets. Drop your thesaurus and stop trying to find a thousand ways to say "Heartbreak."
Friday, August 7, 2009
Bitter Prose
A lack of appetite, a lack of sleep, and this body of mine becomes empty. Moving in and out of consciousness. My face wrinkles and my mouth stays dry. My chest feels tight as if breathing wasn't hard enough. Laying face down on a carpet littered with shredded up poetry. I unplugged the wires that connect from my brain to my heart. From my heart to my dick. Am I even wired like every other guy? For a split second I thought you had called me. A retrospective of winter and spring nights passed. I've heard misery loves company. To bad company is like a hot knife in my throat. Ring tones that don't ring, coffee eyes that taste all to bitter. What? Does a cat have your tongue? Or are the holes in your chest finally filled? The holes you temporary filled with my emotions. I won't compare myself to a heartbroken dove, because I'm no birdbrain.
A lack of appetite, a lack of sleep, and this body of mine becomes empty. Moving in and out of consciousness. My face wrinkles and my mouth stays dry. My chest feels tight as if breathing wasn't hard enough. Laying face down on a carpet littered with shredded up poetry. I unplugged the wires that connect from my brain to my heart. From my heart to my dick. Am I even wired like every other guy? For a split second I thought you had called me. A retrospective of winter and spring nights passed. I've heard misery loves company. To bad company is like a hot knife in my throat. Ring tones that don't ring, coffee eyes that taste all to bitter. What? Does a cat have your tongue? Or are the holes in your chest finally filled? The holes you temporary filled with my emotions. I won't compare myself to a heartbroken dove, because I'm no birdbrain.
Friday, July 17, 2009
I only use this blog
when I get depressed haha. And hey would you look at that, after a few good months of living in positivity and bliss, I'm dragged back into reality. Thank you for another wake up call... Thanks.
Here's a bunch of bullshit lyrics I wrote for my band Blood Oranges.
"Threadhead"
Disorder of the nerves, I'm not laughing anymore
Life seems like a run on joke from a washed out comedian
with to much time on his hands and not enough material
Walking up and down a path tread frequently
This whole nice guys finish last crap is true
Holding up to the classic "let's call it quits" all to soon
What a perfect match, what a perfect match
Get out your thread and needle, Let's start
What a perfect match, what a perfect match
I'm falling to pieces, face first into shit
"Hang Me Up Like A String Of Lights"
Like a lifeless body hanging from rope
What more does someone like me need?
My neck yearned for some constriction
I may of overdid it when my bones snapped
It was so hard to keep up with everything
Letting every struggle consume me
one mistake I've made after another
Keep piling the dirt on top of my tomb
Because even after death I can't escape
I love being buried... being buried in your trash
I'm all fucking talk
I don't need this sympathy
"Thumbtacks"
Is this what it feels like to fear the mornings?
To never sleep a wink with my nerves so shot
Where do my problems end and my luck begins?
Fighting and banter between my mind and heart
What logic is left when you have gone nowhere
Only to beat at a wall that won't collapse
I promised I won't leave you behind like the others
With my tired eyes, will I ever sleep again?
I'm doomed to a fate of bitter outcomes
Stomping on unholy grounds, puking on innocence
I'm swallowing tacks and my throat bleeds
like the organ that stopped beating in sync with yours
Pray that you don't see this man
Pray that you won't see this fool
I've bared enough, I've bared enough
Here's a bunch of bullshit lyrics I wrote for my band Blood Oranges.
"Threadhead"
Disorder of the nerves, I'm not laughing anymore
Life seems like a run on joke from a washed out comedian
with to much time on his hands and not enough material
Walking up and down a path tread frequently
This whole nice guys finish last crap is true
Holding up to the classic "let's call it quits" all to soon
What a perfect match, what a perfect match
Get out your thread and needle, Let's start
What a perfect match, what a perfect match
I'm falling to pieces, face first into shit
"Hang Me Up Like A String Of Lights"
Like a lifeless body hanging from rope
What more does someone like me need?
My neck yearned for some constriction
I may of overdid it when my bones snapped
It was so hard to keep up with everything
Letting every struggle consume me
one mistake I've made after another
Keep piling the dirt on top of my tomb
Because even after death I can't escape
I love being buried... being buried in your trash
I'm all fucking talk
I don't need this sympathy
"Thumbtacks"
Is this what it feels like to fear the mornings?
To never sleep a wink with my nerves so shot
Where do my problems end and my luck begins?
Fighting and banter between my mind and heart
What logic is left when you have gone nowhere
Only to beat at a wall that won't collapse
I promised I won't leave you behind like the others
With my tired eyes, will I ever sleep again?
I'm doomed to a fate of bitter outcomes
Stomping on unholy grounds, puking on innocence
I'm swallowing tacks and my throat bleeds
like the organ that stopped beating in sync with yours
Pray that you don't see this man
Pray that you won't see this fool
I've bared enough, I've bared enough
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)