||the life of the living dead...
well, yeah...this is teejay's livejournal. word. down below are the songs i've written in the time of being a livejournal user from my old account, "aliposculation". now, some of them may use the same lyric here and there (especially the ones near the bottom) because i was seeing which lines fit best where and song it made better and what-not. so read each song like it's the first to get the full grasp on it. yeah. ::boom::
a snowflake is to winter, as she is to me
i've never been a fan of the word, "settle". despite it's placement in the dictionary, i find it far and behind where you find, "satisfaction". but we are five pages past any sign of these. our picture can be found with the synonyms of "serenity". i never imagined an accord that could be so culminating. i know it's the thought that counts. that's why i'm making sure each of mine keep track with plus signs of the rosewater seconds made between her and i. if there is a little piece of heaven in each snowflake, by god, she was conceived in the perfect storm.
it's what she didn't say, that spoke volumes
"are you ready yet? we have fifteen minutes until our reservations at the restaurant are over-booked." "..." "when you were young, did you mother tell you that you were uglier than all the other girls?" "..." "i'll make sure to slap her in the face. she fucking lied to you. now, quit sitting there on the end of the bed with your head hanging down and pick up your purse. let's go." i said, so eager to get the french diner on time. "..." silence is all that she spoke. in these moments of stale breaths, i dropped to my knees infront of her and comforted her with a gentle lift of her chin to see what was wrong only to have my hand graced by a tear. i looked up towards her face and replied, "why aren't you wearing the black pearl necklace i got you?" her only reply was a tear. i shifted my perception to her lap to find her hands cupped the necklace in it. i returned my attention to her eyes and said, "is it too big?" her only recognition of my words was a nod, accompanied by another tear. "well...pass me those black-gripped scissors on the nightstand, honey." she then, stretched across our white silk sheets for the scissors. "thanks dear," i replied in gratitude. "you're welcome", she replied as a smile seemed to paint across her face in tone of that appealing cardinal lipstick i bought her our previous anniversary. this is where everything changed. "you know what, how about we forget dinner..." i trail off as i softly push her onto her back across our bed. "and celebrate right here, right now?" she embraces my side of my neck with the sweet caress of her tongue. this was my cue. i took the scissors within my right hand, sweeped one of the blades into the side of her neck and came down on the black grip, allowing the other blade to come through the flesh and reunite with the other. pulling out the tool from within throat and dropped onto the floor, i thrust hand into the crimson gash made and pulled from her mouth her tongue, half-way out of this wound. "now that is the finest columbian necktie this bloodied hand can buy." i exclaimed with a smirk so secure on my face. "oh, the simple pleasures of taking life."
so i like the occasional chick flick
"the love we share so willingly, is much like one of those romantic comedies. heartfelt lines and picture perfect times that off the silver screen, seem so cheesey like the rhyme scheme to this ditty. but that's okay, all that matters is that you mean it with me. our fancied tunes at this time, decorated in scratches. worn-out like used matches and over-played according to the mass majority. our love grows strong, as fads and fashions seem to dissapear, completely. like this full-length that we still bob our heads side to side to, the whole way through. now let's put it in the player and pray our favorite tracks don't skip a single note or miss a beat. if our love is a song, can you please put it on 'repeat'?."
they don't give the nobel prize for these kind of things
"the bisymmetrical symmertry of a heart, only proven so with the division. the same solution comes from trying to solve numerous problems. "how can this be?" some may ask. it's the mysterious randomistic equation of love, with the conclusive of heartbreak. everytime. how random is that? it's sad to be the mathmetician that once developed and published this theory. i used to think it was better me than someone else at the chalkboard, shaking with this untencil at their fingertips. sometimes. i would push the chalk too hard against the blackboard, creating a debris that would soon, rest upon the toes of my shoes. reminders of the winter days, that i would walk a mile for you, just to see that gorgeous smile. but anywho, back to the drawing board. always. i would wonder why in so many scenarios, the same solution would be my end result. you'd think for one answer would be the variable "l" would be following by a repeating decimal. but somewhere in the equation, the variable would always cancel out, with the final solution, a zero embraced by a slash. this is a flashback before i saw my error. i needed two common denominators to maintain the "l" variable without compromising the formula. so here i am, three pasts gone, one present later. i found the conslusion i've been looking for. i found love."
beauty and the mortician
"you thirst for her like a unquenched monarch for the morning dew, freshly adduced upon these opening petals of a blossoming rose. trickling through the pursed white lips of the developing petals, a condensation about to fall from this perfect rose. the moment your brittle segmented legs gently set place upon this newborn flower, the dew you attempt to drink, spread-shots from the petal's crease to their depressed tips, facing towards the ground. in the action of a pitcher, the petals pour away the droplets you thirst for. with the saddening sound of the droplets embracing the ground, you look from above to see what you wanted, be soaked up by the mulch of these gardens. and she made you think, you were better than dirt."
la di fuck'in da
"my heart drops like the once proud soaring birds from the polluted skies above harbor shores onto wood-planked decks and into unforgiving currents, with no one to be the wringer. la di fuck'in da. to put them out of this intoxicating misery. to break their necks and end the short breaths they gasp for as they try to breathe. yes, it's true, my heart was once beating."
the beach in december
"outline my breath with the coldness that is, outside in the winter. slide your fingers down my spine to distract my shivers. wipe your tears on my tissue paper shoulder. dampen me until you weigh me down, then continue forth. your touch. your warmth. it feels like august, again. when i look into your eyes, i can see the summer sky. a shimmering azulic blue like diamonds along the ocean rim, reflecting off the moon's light. your gracious smile is more thanks than i deserve. you say my feelings will fade like those diamonds i speak of. blending in with each grain of sand when the tide crosses over them and sea buries them in vain. i would agree if my heart wasn't so damn fond of you. don't be afraid to cry infront of my eyes. i'll honor your every word with my own and nurtue your eyes by wiping away what it bleeds. my caresses against your heart will be truthful. don't ask me what makes you so different. do you ponder why roses of all flowers are an affection of love? i didn't think so and don't start doing so now. they just are and so are you."
go back to fiesta terrace, you homewrecker!
"you capitalized on my trust. every phrase i ever said. every moment i ever described. you said it and had it all with her before i could even make a move. 'been there, fuck'ted that'. i'll rip you apart. it will be hard to sweet talk another lady into bed without a mandible to help you express someone else's words. this is not wishful thinking. this is a plight to pummel you in ways no one has ever swung their fists before. to make you bleed in ways, no one has ever bled before. and then and only there, would originality come from you. there and only then, would you be original. this is a warrant for manslaughter. i fear not, what my fellow man may undo to me. i let my fellow man fear what i may do to them. kill or be killed."
snail mail needs a block feature too
"we were an accident. i was in the wrong place at the wrong time. my last words to you were, "sleep in the shadows. no one wants to see your face. you're starless." and yet you claim i'm your one and only? with a permanent marker i suggest you ink "forget" in a raven's shade across your heart. for your sake, maybe it will sink in. i no longer want to recieve any incoming mail from your nebraska domestic and electronic addresses. if this plea is not met, further actions will be made to accomidate my demands. so stop this before there's a chalked contour of your collapsed body on your bedroom floor. where i will have to stage a knocked over bottle of sleeping pills, left with only three remaining nearby your cadaver. the pleasure has been all yours in this final dialogue. 'send' -> 'sending...' -> 'sent'."
atleast i don't own a slytherin t-shirt
"you are the culprit. you're murder weapon was that motion picture kiss. you left me crippled, but standing. dead, but still in breaths. in love, but yet with a heart, incapable to beat like it should. this is so fucking short-sighted. we were the archetype of a working relationship. my nightmares were shoulder-grabs to get my attention. i shouldn't buckled my back towards you. now i am the fractured. my signature, a heart embraced by an 'x'. i am the cipher. my ensignia, a zero sheltered by a slash. i am the overtrusting. my trademark, the depression forced into my closet door by an able fist. so much for the heartfelt romance, baby."
your navigating coordinances are off, your fighting chance is at the next dock
"lesser infatuations felt by inferior teenyboppers and helpless virgins. woebegone lasses in a no-win situation. throw your paddles into the waters, you're up creek. let the crystal waters take you where you have a fair shake. this is where i draw the line. if you even think about setting foot upon these docks, then jehovah can be my witness to this pledge, i betroth. i'll drape your head in a plastic bag and return you to the waters you came from. my heart is not a consolation prize to be given away. this boat race was over before the whistle was at all, blown. there's no runner-up. only first place. this is for her. brand your epiphet across my heart. if love is to die for, then make sure my funeral is an open-casket ceremony. for all those who never had a chance with me to see. because i'm done for."
wishful thinking for those, unlike me
"let’s sit back and stare at the ace high midnight sky. if i could see a falling star tonight, i would not make a wish at all. in hopes of it crossing the path of someone with dire demands to fulfill their dreams. since i live mine as i bandage your wounds, courtest of 'by when' backstabbers and heartbreakers. each day, each night, is a juncture without price. if anyone should envy another's life, they should envy mine. i just may rub a eyelash from one of your polished cheeks, but i would let it fall to the ground just like another good-bye to past memories. this is heaven. a ladybug can come ashore the decrepit skin of one of my fingertips. i could not wish for a better lover than the one i love and live my life with. i would let that noblewoman fly away and in hope, i like to think she will find a ill-fated face's nose to settle upon. let that person make a wish. just maybe the thing they sigh for will be their own. for with every kiss from you to me, the lips that create my smile work harder. you give my lungs the hopeless romatic's ideal reason to breathe. i love you, kelly mccartney."
unfortunate fortune, how fortunate of me
"you'll meet a handsome boy. eye and hair color are irrelvant. his personality will be anything but coy. he will say something sweet, that will frame your thought in a way, that you will easily forget about me. the longer he talks, the less you will think of me. sooner than the preferred later, you have barely any memory of what you saw in me. you will begin to realize i'm not perfect, not even close to the best. around this span of breaths, you will consider running a shank into the center enclosure of my chest. you're going to start breaking promises and not giving names. but that's just fine, need not a name to hallmark this somebody, just so long as it's anybody me, you'll find yourself better off."
i use pomade since hair gel flakes and irritates my scalp
"the phone rings. her tone and choice of words only prepare me for the worst. "we need to talk". right about now, i had wished i never answered the phone. my heart was at that halfway point where it's either stitch or rip. the carving somewhat resembled that cheesy cinematic eighties lightning. it was like that second delay between the friction and the searing of a match. i knew our fire was gonna go up in smoke. this was three days into the summer before the yester. fuck the mic, i know you don't want to hear me say your name. (::insert name here::) give or take, this is what has becomed of you and me. if you asked me then, i would've told you it was love. if you ask me now, i will tell you the truth."
the worst part of sharing walls
"in the motel parking lot under hundred watt lamp lights, is where they gather. the incandescence of each volt, bewitched the winged exhiles of the six-legged world. i just hope that this rain that seems to follow me, does not rupture their midnight mixer as i walk into my rented room. i throw myself onto the bed instead of another. can't help but notice the missing ceiling tiles and open-season piping and wiring as i try to make forty winks on my back. the second i close my eyes is the moment i hear her moan and their headboard thrown against our common wall. it's room eighty-four, it seems they are celebrating their love in what i assume, a horizontal form. the only thing i can find to cuddle is the surely sullied comforter that i clinch as my eyes begin to bathe in envious tears. i'm three hours away from her. this disheartening realization culls me from the mattress and onto my unsteady feet. soon to find my forehead lapidated against the opposing neighboring wall. this is where the tears finally hit the floor, and at that moment, i heard him doing the same on the other side of the deterrent. his checkmated tear-filled screams "hello?" being asked of someone who's voice i cannot hear. here is when i heard the sound of something being pulled from this wall. i can only assume it was the same thing being thrown into what sounded like, a glass object of sorts. "why won't she answer the phone!?" my tears were no further selfish and my own. i've fallen down to my knees, my face in palms. i should end this before i break into song."
daydreaming is overrated
"i'll try to keep this short. why waste the time we are given on a blue canvas that only the hopeless and unsure use to lay out the blueprints of their dreams? when you invest into each day of my present a dreamlike quality. forget the clouds, ignore what the sky holds. the stars were never bright enough to be the backdrop to you. we were never hopeless. this was surefire from the moment our lips crashed together. let's take what we have, in the shape of our tied together hands; this five to ten finger-inlay, palm-to-palm lock with one combination. love. let's prove them all wrong, love is not for the hopeless at heart."
i don't wait for the mail to come anymore
"the make of my teeth has been blocked out across the cleft between my knuckles. the cainines came down too hard on my fist. her rhetorical articulation, her cold-toned "i fucking hate you's". that's the background music to the slow deconstruction of my self-esteem and urge to force breathes. there is no hope for a sweet sleep tonight. if she was to walk away from this attempt at breaking my will to live, she would only leave me with a mouth roughcasted in a dahlia that can rust against these drying walls of my kisser. this taste in my mouth, i am beginning to think i deserve. but that wasn't enough for her. she has made it as improbable as possible for me let go of those two years. sent me a beautiful envelope, with hearts and smiley faces crossing it's frontside and the back, sealed with a pink wax emblem bearing her thumbprint. lined inside, was the ashes of every visual portrayal of us she had, or so she narrated in the phonecall that came later. did she really have to point out what ashes played the bed for? she could've atleast, just pawned the engagement ring. i don't want this memory."
sincerely somebody, not any better than you
"we mold our minds to the shapes of idols that we think must have ties with heaven. little do we know, they lead secret lives in the alleyways with crack and clear glass pipes. but what can it hurt to envy the lives and morals they pretend to abide? a breath in the black delineation of a illusive thesp is a life, less lived. come on, breathe on your own. you did it when you were too young to turn on the tv. this is just what i will pen down on the black & white still-shots that no one will ask me to ink. sincerely somebody, not any better than you."
i'm sorry i don't have hockey pucks for plugs
"for every skinhead who throws a fist into the face of a man in midst dance, to every faggot with razors inbetween his knuckles while windmilling; fuck you. leave your guns and knives at home. and to think, you fucking laugh at me because i'm the same? that's cool, i return the favor because you think you're different.
it's a good thing kissing isn't this difficult
"if any words were to ever have sediment when being forced from my mouth, it should be these. sometimes i think it would be much better just to sever the tip of my tongue, so these phrases cannot stand idle on it. okay, here it goes. i just hope this sounds as good coming out as it does when i recite it in my head. my heart brims, overflow, in the name of you. wait, what i am trying to say is this. i've walked through a dozen rose gardens and seen cardinal carnations in the scarlet moments of their blushing. if it came to cuts, i much rather make contact with every thorn, than feel your skin turn cold. i've counted all the stars and sure, i've gave each one of them a name. but by god, i rather watch them all simultaneously ignite in a short-lived sky blaze, than watch you step farther from grace. step farther from grace."
you don't dance in these kind of shoes
"i've subjected myself to reason too many times to have hope in finding it. make yourself tight at the lips, your questions will be remain unanswered. so, save yourself the excess use of the breathing function. you'll be struggling with that, all in due time. i got a pair of cement shoes, molded just to suit your petite feet. i think they just might be a 'perfect fit'. when this is all said and done, the only comfort you will know is the crustaceans short of the homaridae family tree that poke along sideways across your pale facial complexion. the waters below the brooklyn bridge will be your last embrace."
you might as well, be running with scissors
"she is in my arms, tonight. just try and loosen my grip. take my words as a challenge or as a symbolism of the strength that i love her with. either way, this is a war i am definitely ready to die for. this is for love. this is for her."
there's a leak in the bottom of your heart
"replace me in the passenger seat with everything you wish you could see in me. throw me in the backseat, dressed in a bodybag lined with glitter marker "i never loved you's". i know you won't put this piece of work in the trunk. in the rear-view, your face will show distinct signs of consolation in midst the visual reminder of your success of putting me behind you. this is a fourteen mile drive down and off memory lane onto the last street on your left, past recollection boulevard. there's a house with a two foot deep creek behind it, just down a sloping hill in their backyard. that is where you ditch this reflection of failure in a significant other. this is where you forget to remember all the good times. this is where you neglect to say, "good bye"."
birds of change
"hopefully, this will throw your heart, offbeat. i think this should be memorable, a memory embedded in your head stuck on repeat. i'll do my best to follow through. when the sun shows it's colors over the horizion in the morning, it's just as dark as night if you're not there greeting it's light fragments with me. it 'twas the nightingale you say, who made the call on your balcony banister. but i know far too well, in plain view, it 'twas the bluebird whom announced the wake of the watchman of our local lighthouse. it's morning, fair beauty and no present is grander than the idea of kindling to the touch of your hands in basking moments where lambency knows no boundry in the shape of a window. divinity has delivered. this angel has only one sender. thank you."
no one likes a quitter
"the clarity of your voice seems to be distorted. maybe it's that lead pipe i drove down your esophogus. perhaps it was the trachea? nonetheless, it's not like this is the first time you've had a stiff shaft put in mouth. but i promise lass, this will be your last. your once hot rose red lips resort to a cold attempt at the color, violet. don't worry, i'll give you a proper burial; a body bag composed of two black trash bags, held together steady and made durable with duct tape. no eulogy will be held in my neighbor's private garden. your corpse will be paradise to the scavengers with subterranean condos, six feet under. they will indulge on every perfection of your body as i once did, but they will go much further. without conscience, they will survive on instinct. breaking flesh will mean nothing to them as they harvest your organs and dismantle your veins to come upon that cardinal nectar, now coagulated. i'm not sure they will find satisfaction in eating your heart, it may be too cold for their taste. it was for me."
and when we met, my heart made vivid beats
"at the sound of your name, my blood pressure rises in my love-laced veins. just the presence of you puts me in a place of serenity. i don't even have to enhale the essence you leave, trailing behind. the moment i see your eyes for the first time of each day, is the moment mine, fully open. the times you give me your smile, are the only times i can give someone mine. the moments we spend alone conversating with one another, are ones that i would like drag on forever. if god has a face, it would be a attempt to resemble yours and if angels had hearts, they would be still a beat behind yours. oh, how i used to retain my heart's screams, everyday. i would refrain from my mouth's ambitions at every good-bye. with the addition of having to arrest my hand's intentions during every hug. for i the role i used to play as only a trustworthy friend, was better than the role of no one, in your life that i now have the power to make, better."
that sweet talk'in motherfucker
"here we are, in this dim-lit bedroom. why do we stand, when we can lay down upon feathered surfacing? let me break this moment of silence, with a what will start, as an innocent kiss to your neck. don't mind me if my tongue slips against you porcliene-smooth skin. i don't need to look up to know that you are smiling. because i feel your fingers drawing a heart on my back. as my hand brushes through your silk-threaded hair; no tangles to complicate the night, you take your hand and rub the fine hairs on the back of my timid neck. it's hard to not be nervous when in the presence of perfection, itself. don't tell me you feel the same way. flattering is only more talk and less of this physical bliss. i could take one moment to cast my eyes upon each curve of your angelic body, but why waste the time i have to gaze upon something i will caress? nothing pleases me more than my fingers against and within you. the pleasure you recieve is what makes my smile grow. there is a passionate heat in this room and outside is a dismally cold night. but the friction we make is what keeps us warm. i can feel your blood flow from within, a warmness that reminds me of our love for eachother. when this fire-starting passion comes to an end, our lips will remain in lock. this is what makes love, baby. only virgins wonder why sex is addictive."
don't let me hit the floor as i fall for you
"if only i could say these words as well as i write them, then perhaps, i wouldn't have to write them at all. then maybe, i would not be much like that of a newly adopted puppy. then maybe, i wouldn't be kicked away by your foot. just maybe, i would be picked up by you. just maybe, then you give me a home in your arms. turn down the mundane normality you call convienence, take a chance away from daily routines. turn my world upside-down with your eyes, give me a reason to fly. flight on paper wings, destined to show certain feelings. if i shall fall, will you catch me? if i shall die, will you mourne? be the one, to pull my heart out of the crease, in this paper airplane, destination: heartbreak. abort this wrist-cast dismission, give me shelter in your love. let me find sanction in the chambers of your heart. bless me with your everlasting smile. every time you kiss me, do it like it's our last. like this is the last time. make an impression on my lips, that i will never forget. please don't throw me away. unfold these papercut-potential edges and take a chance. if you get hurt, i'll kiss your cut. in the end, things will be great. as long your the one to catch me in my moment of descent."
you'll be glad you can't understand me when i scream
"in confession, words never meant to be spoken in verse, if at all. i am not a charming, charismatic guy with a passion for the things he does. i am the same as every guy who doesn't swallow his spit before he embraces a girl's lips. in likeness to those who hurt you, i too, have broken hearts. i as well, have said meaningless "i love you's". this isn't an admittance of flaws. this is pointing out of obvious that love so easily, conceals. your heart in my hands, has no future. abort this mission in your search of love. your feelings for me already have an appointment with meeting the sole of my left sandal. i won't spare you the twisting motion, either. there will be no mercy, for i gave you warning. i'm just like the rest, and you are just a rebound girl. and in a time lapse of fifteen minutes, with a box cutter, you cut yourself. i'm sorry i didn't shed any tears for you. love is the best art of suicide. too bad you failed, you could've gone out with a bang."
p.o. box 777 at the golden gates of heaven
"sweet christ, do you see the way she looks at me? i know it would make most men feel feeble but i can't help but find comfort in her pupils. oh my god, do you feel the way she holds my heart? it's so reassuring, i can almost feel a sense of certain security. how clever, it seems i have a adolescent rhyme scheme in works. but mother mary, this vowel-chime is far more deadpan than it's style of verse. i know the night she closes her eyes and her eyelids do not make the motion to open the next morning, it will be a sight, a moment, i dare not want to carry with me. do not haul in my angel to the otherside of your golden gates. you already have enough."
and we play infront of a banner bearing his name
"the tale of a unlicensed spellbinder who saved a kingdom. a daikini baby bearing the mark of future royalty. her name was elora and his name was willow. a simple man in a little town. constructed of small proportions, but he had the hands of a man and the heart of a sorcerer. and with his wand and his duffel of stone-casting acournes, he and a daikini man, madmartigan; make dust of the queen bavmorda. the shadows of a kingdom under dark reign, fall. good-bye to nockmaar."
return to sender
"in reply to the letters you've sent over the passing months. i write this for you. also, all incoming pieces of mail from your address from this moment on, will be labelled "return to sender". and now, for the cue for you to cover your ears. this is the part of the song you don't want to hear. this is where i say "make an attempt to injest razorblades, previously applied to lonely, tempid skin. choke on them just like that sink's drain used to." now, with that put to past, i only have a farewell to say. good-bye."
the promises they never kept
"i am going to make good on every promise those adolescent males made before me. i'm going to mean every word they never fucking did, and then some. i'll spoil you fucking rotten with the freshest yellow roses a florist can offer and money can buy. don't investigate my actions for a reason and don't ask what's the special occasion. just because it's today. just because it's being spent with you."
for all the heartbreakers who know not the aftermath
"what irritates your eyes more than your own blood, smeared across it's retinal surface by a palm attempting to wipe away tears? i feel so forlorn, but how can i sit here and complain when a flame doesn't even have a black silhouette to call, it's own. i should only feel so fortunate. i only have this one thing going for me and that's only because, everyone looks cuter when they have a pillow over their face. call me pretty. call me a fucking cutie."
you're my star of my night and i pray, for you to be the sun of my days
"it's much easier to say 'good night' to the stars of public skies when all you have to do is close your eyes. but i only wish it was as easy when i have to actually say 'good night' to my only star in this black canvas depiction of the things that are of importance in my life. it's only as easy, when she is also my sun. when her heat of her body is the first thing i feel, when her face is the first thing i see when i wake upon the next morning."
your high school habits are unhygienic
"oh, you filthy fucks. i know just how you talk with your sooty bacteria-dipped tongues and chapped lips. how your foul words have dirtied my name. you squalid gossiping fucks. your attempts with sullied rumors, saturated with unkempt words. you kids, so disarrayed, with mung mouths that cannot speak much further from the truth. this is all i hear you say. what's that? i can't hear you. "blah blah blah". and you wonder why you slatternly fucks have no one to hold your hand in the hallways."
caught up in the act of playing casanova
"your beauty inspires the angels throw stars down from the heavens. for anyone else to think otherwise is blasphemous and just proves them of being blind. this, for the simple fact that you can never admit your beauty, is another thing about you, so great, that i can see. sure, this may all sound cliché. i know it must, but there is not much else i can say that will catch the way you make the wind blow against my heart."
let's play doctor
"i think there is some things you should know. there's a hole in my heart that i don't want to close. i know the possible consquences of this action. but still, i gauge it each day and night so it's easier for you to walk in, and now that you're in here, let's make one thing clear. never smear that pretty face of yours with unnatural paints because girl, the finest morning's daylight looks so dull when it's face to face with you. but i will admit, those black accents around your eyes remind of beautiful stars brightening a lonley midnight sky. please don't ask me why, you're beauty if far too hard to describe with simple words. i pray that i don't studder when i mention this all. every word walks directly out of that big hole in heart, up my trachea, across my tongue and dives off my lips. just say "i love you", the only reply that would be sweeter than this is the lip-to-lip transaction we call, a kiss."
you grace my dreams with your presence
"it's much easier to deal with the cold hands of life that so swiftly clasp around your timid, goose-bump stricken neck, when you simply write in a repetitive rhyme scheme about things that never made much sense. life has a plan for me that i am not willing to sign for. i will continue writing love songs about her and how she makes my blood flow, rapid like red rivers who know only one desire and it does not lie within the streams of my body. i will continue living life in my sleep and walking in my nightmares in the morning on the streets. this is my escape plan. i will not die alone. her love is my escape plan. because she is my 'to die for'."
a kiss of yours is worth a lifetime of understatements
"i could spend the rest of my life, giving birth to finger blisters and wearing down the gel-grip on this 'low on ink' pen, in search of finding a likeness in one of my songs, that describes just how strong i feel for you. but i know, i'm closer to never than anyone else has ever been before. and i know, words can't mold into the shape you've made of my heart. so i guess i will continue writing these words that just come out as drastic understatements."
the statue of love and instability, hammer in one hand, my heart in the other
"a handful have held my heart, but only a few have had the power to break it. you've never told me anything to make me think, you're the one who will drop the hammer and cherish me. but for some reason i know that, this is beyond what love is for angels. our love is so silently said, but is so loud and coherant. it's moments like this that lead me to know you will cup my heart in both hands, and give me a reason that no one else can. you will say "i love you" and you will have to hold my heart in place, so that it doesn't flutter away. but then again, it's not like you haven't already."
typographical errors in text display of love
"we talk with keyboards below our fingertips. we exchange messages through a instant service. it's so much easier to tell the girl you love how you feel, when you never have to see her face when she lies kindly to reject you. you never have to know, if your plan doesn't fall through. with a mathematical sign of inequality and a number so suited to grace the top of this two-character text heart. i can't help but think, of a different way to say "i love you". in the division of this heart with an accidental press of a space bar, i come across something so distorted, yet oh so clear. "i less than three you, angel." typed across my text window and sent with touch of the enter key. send me that big smiley emoticon, darling. let me know you understand what it means."
with his zoom lense, he caught everything that made the moment
"it's time to get out the old film projector. for through a private eye; you know, one of those guys in the canvas trenchcoats that do their job behind public sight; i've intercepted video footage of you. i just had to make sure. now has come the moment for to pull down the projection screen, then i will roll out the red carpet for everyone who comes to see just exactly how good you were to me. to show how right they were about you being faithful to me while i struggle to sleep. you finally got what you wanted, you're a star on this bi-layer white paper screen. you're apart of that 'big picture' everyone has come to see. let's celebrate the turn-out for this film; the tragedy you compiled into my heart, with the champagne that filled this wine glass, across your face. now really, was it all worth the thrill?"
if life was but a dream
"how about we make something out of nothing? let's make gold out of brass. let's mold pearls out of sand. let's cut diamonds out of glass. let's form something together. just something that will hopefully, last. i won't ask too much of you, i promise baby, there is only thing i would like to do. you're the sweet angel that one day, i'd like to call my own. oh don't get me wrong, you wonderful girl. you're not a property to be claimed with a script signature at the bottom of a lifetime warranty. i just want to be able to look into your eyes and say, "those sapphire star-gazers are only for me".
a blank empty stare during desensitization
"this is the sadomasochistic dual partner motion that every bondage video attempts to achieve, but only two of fifty states could ever see. we put the fourth 'x' in snuff film ratings. it's just too bad every girl can only be a snuff film star once. but atleast you go out with a bang. speaking of which, i nearly forgot to pull the trigger. here's to 'us' and the recording of your last fourty minutes alive, but now, no state can see how i made you beautiful."
your average new york hardcore love song
"there is a problem. i am in nausea with the idea of me being described with the single word of frailty. do not soften your intentions around me, if you got a hammer behind your back, pose the threat and walk heavy towards me. just be prepared, i hide a stiletto ripper up my sleeve. this is no middle school popularity punked war. this is a brawl. brace yourself for swift sidesteps and work on your fighting stance. my choice of weapon is short, and with a point and before you know it, you're bleeding from both kidneys."
in ninteen ninty-seven, anger management wasn't offered in my rural area
"on behalf of the blood you spilt from my veins, this tune is just for you. look at me in my eyes when i say this. i want to see the tremble of your eyes while you come close to tears. this song is much more than just a hymn. this little ditty is me, verbally having my fist meet your left temple. let me pop off the heresay whereby i plan to depress in your ears. give me a moment to articulate just the right words i want to make public with you. fuck you. now i'm through, it has been a pleasure to diologue with you."
can we outrun the sun, girl?
"dear girl, i can't look at a night sky without seeing a black canvas adorned with a thousand pairs of your eyes. it's hallucinations like these, that make it hard to sleep at night. i can't go to a by a florist store without seeing the buds of roses and thinking of your lips. it's times like this, where i wish their scarlet petals tasted just as sweet. i want to write you a love song, that will fill the bullet wounds of betrayal with love, for me. i fucking love you. cross my heart, if i lie, then on my heart, you can rip the stitches that keep me from falling apart."
pictorialization of this girl i know
"let me draw you a picture. it's of this girl, i know you see her everyday. she is the one with the sapphire winkers and those florid lips that are full like the finest petals to ever flower. does she look familar yet? okay, let me try to capture the depth her eyes, tunnel. it's hard to put to paper, but they are the beryl doorknobs to an awe-inspiring girl. this illustration still doesn't strike a memory in your mind? well, think about when you look into the speculum confined to your bathroom wall, just above your sink. has a once, dim light become vibrant(like the presence of this mystery girl) in realization? i hope so, cause it's you, girl."
bob your head, this is a red-heart love song
"if love had any color to go by, we both know it would be crimson. this is the kind of red confession i am willing to make. if i never met you girl, my heart would not know how to beat. this cardiac muscle beats off tones like jazz slap bassist. but it's playing anything but blues, darling. this is a red desire one-man symphony. your words are the conductor and your tongue is your directional wand. you're the sweetest candy to me. if you lick the red off my lolipop, i won't mind. as long as i can taste it like cherry lip-gloss on your lips."
i promise, the stars meant nothing to me
"i don't know why i miss, the good times we never had. my eyes were unfaithful, i know. i slept with the stars. i'm sorry, but i couldn't help it, my eyes kept gazing. i promise, the stars meant nothing to me, because my mind has always been, all about you, girl. if only you knew before, you were everything that held up my world. afterall, it never had legs to stand on it's own. when i saw you walk away, i saw the only thing the other guys would see. i wish you knew how honest i was about how much you meant to me. good-bye, the legs to my world."
dismantle your handed down grandfather clock
"the past is...the seconds, the minutes, the hours, the days, the weeks, the months, the fucking years killed off in the following of chronology and arithmetics by the corresponding arms upon this traditional grandfather clock called, father time. the mathematical figures of those measurements of memories only have one solution, but what's worse, is that it's forever embedded. you can burn the pile of leaves, but does that restore the canopies above you? you cannot change what has happened for the better, this is our cycle. you can burn these letters, but does that make the words, the heartbreaking statements written in that black ink any less permanent on your mind? you can burn these letters, but rememberance will always recite them and those times will be called, your worst hours of dwelling."
just drop it like it's hot
"now don't let this get trivial, keep it casual and let your heart speak. for lies are easily caught in the snare of probable cause. you're so good at hiding what you're feeling on the inside by faking your mood on the outside, but not good enough to jest me. heathe my words, i will not be taken for a fool with you."
a postman sticks to his oath, you don't
"the weather channel is calling for rain. i guess this means another day without you in my embrace. it's like you always have a reason, why you can never stop by. i know this all too well now, angel...these are distance games made intentional. your play is foul, darling...but i'm sure you already know. you die tonight in the shape of a tear, crossing over facial surfaces, breaking the tear trail at the chin. it wouldn't be so bad if you could pick up the phone, and let your voice be the metronome that keeps my heart at proper pace, but never did you even call. you say you've done it so many times, but i've got the new fandangled technology, caller ID. please just stop lying to me."
if i were in the sixteenth century, i'd totally be a pirate
"click your heels in mid-air, fucks. this is the last waltz across the riverside beaches we'll dance. let's make it endless. let's move our feet to beats of natural woodwind perfection. you know how i love the way the wind blows against the leaves of the trees and the crickets play the violin with their front wings. this is a waltz. this is the last scene of our drawn-out movie. the scripts are calling for a pre-mature death. our love is to die, but i simply can't rationalize. this outdoor ballroom marathon will last. this is our last. let the written words meet the water, stage-left. with the signal to improv, we dance in blisters and bunnions and to the sound of our popping cysts. this is the endless waltz."
don't bother kneeling down by your bedside with hands in prayer
"dear god, i miss the way you never answered my prayers. the only thing i miss more, is the way your all-knowing words sound similar to silence. you're the mass-induced hallucination that no one ever sees. thank you for never listening."
i am the puppeteer of this theater
"face first, choking on the cotton cover of this pillow. much like emotions suffocated by my sewn lips. if i bite down any harder, my mouth will fill with feathers. this feeling is unwanted and disgusting. much like the dirt that sleeps below the rim of my fingernails. this hurts more than my jagged cuticles against the friction lit between me and the rough corners of my bed. so if are hearing me in this time of need and you have a gun, then you're my new friend. and as for your first course of action as a better acquiantance to me, spare me your gun, i will only empty one round in this six-piece chamber. just step back, i'd hate to bloody your garb. my reflection, looks much better, broken."
in profane tongues, i die without you
"oh wow, we're on lover's peak with hands held in this car, parked at the top. but for the first time, your lips don't seem so full. maybe it's just lighting tonight, because your eyes don't seem to glisten. what's that? i didn't hear what you said. don't repeat, my heart might stop beating. you say "this is only gonna go downhill from here." it's is only gonna go downhill if you disengage the parking brake. if you're leading up to a break-up line, don't say it. just turn the keys in the ignition, shut the fuck up and drive. i'll die before i hear that this love is dead. you can bail out before this car plummets. don't mind me, like i said, i am in it for the long run."
gossiping drama-queen whore
"i will forge a flesh ditch in her skin and flood it with the red. i will watch her bleed over the letters she writes out to friends about me. i'm prostrated of being known in places i've never visited. i've grown hatred in times of germination in the soil of your lies. the way you sprout these words from false roots to ears that never heard my voice. your lips will be a trophy, held together by your vocal chords. this ornament will adorn my rear-view mirror. the truth never sounds right. it's the lies made that make sense."
lace wings, swallowtails and blue preponas
"i had said it so long. i had said it so many times. it just began to lose it's meaning. just another phrase that fell from my tongue and onto my lips. don't get me wrong, this is a love song. with you darling, it's different. i got butterflies in my torso. just don't kill them with the pesticides of false promise. if your intention is to watch something fall with your words, don't bother. i've already fallen for you. i'm glad it's my ribcage that this feeling flutters in. thank you...thank you. i want to breathe these butterflies so you can see the beauty of this feeling you've helped me capture. with each kiss, you let go a dozen preponas into my lungs. i hope i give back some to you, because my love for you is already beyond a plethora."
we make 'from-above' cinematography look good
"it seems god is the director of this romantic comedy. his timing couldn't be anymore perfect. parting clouds; that's the cue for the spotlight to shine through and through lips, we embrace. we threw out the script and went into improv during our lip choreography. we told him we never practiced this scene and he said we were naturals on the silver screen. we are the peep-show every angel loves to watch. our cinema makes 'casa blanca' look like a horror flick gone wrong. you know it's true."
and you said, "it's over" with a double-click
"this song is not for you. this song is for the idea of being happy and the possibilities, that dreams may become a truth. this song is a written reassurance to myself that life may get better in ways i do not have to spell out. oh simple child, this isn't because of you. i wouldn't give you such credit for being the reason for me throwing crossword puzzles with the word, 'love' embedded, out the closest window. spare me insincere apologies you deliver to my electronic mailbox. my forgiveness is not even worth a two cent stamp and ink spilt from a pen. how far of a walk is it from your front door to your rusted mailbox with a crooked six, one and four slapped across it's fineside? too far to bother, i'm sure. this song isn't about you, it's just a coincidence. let me be that denying voice for you and spare you the mental work. this song is for me. i fucking hate you."
a lifetime long is as close to forever we'll get
"here i am again, holding this pen to paper. i knew i would back at this desk, sooner than later. in black ink that smears when palm comes across it, i confess my undying love for you. from the first day, i came in contact with those blue eyes, i knew one of many things. i knew those eyes were never meant to give birth to tears, even though i already knew they do. your eyes were never meant to droop, and to god, this i swear, if i get the chance, i will make sure they never do so again. the term people use to fluxuate meaning on a emotion called, 'forever', is a word we like to change what it's meant for. like a neverending story, this word is simply imaginary. when i sing this, i want to feel your heart swell. i want you to know deep down inside, i scream your name in my dreams every night. forever means nothing where as something a lifetime long, means the world. if i was to give you my world before it meant anything, does it make the action any less significant? i don't care, here it is, from my heart into your palm. if it takes this lifetimes to prove to you, my love is true, it will be time well spent. this is most honest thing i've wrote, and i'm glad it's for you."
and onward class, this is how we disect a butterfly
"grab onto nothing and let go of everything. trust me, it's much easier to die when you're all alone. there is no such thing as a motiveless suicide. how many reasons can you find in your phonebook to live? how far do you have to search until you find a reason to die? not far when there being no reason to live, is good enough. four letters, three ways to check your vital signs, two possible reactions, one word, love. a word that can lead to cardiac rejuvenation or arrest. you can come to a hault with one word. how many times have you picked your heart up off dirty floors? how many rags must you bloody while tending to open wounds? there is only two sides to a relationship, two ventricles to a heart and that's just the suffice amount to witness a symmetrical division. it only takes one to break something, but it takes two to watch it fall apart."
let's not be a sad song like two doves that part
"when doves cry red, you know two lovers out there, somewhere, said their last goodbyes. only the star-crossed ones, survive. it wouldn’t be so bad if the last kiss wasn’t the most memorable one, out of all of those in the past. it’s a sad scene to see, the red tear trails that root from black beads of innocence, that now, stain the ivory feathers of a symbolic bird. it is told, when doves of two part from eachother infront of a moon in the night sky, that the pair of lovers who witness this, will lover deeper than ever before. a success for the sake of not being like another's tragedy."
deforestation with a lunch break spent reading from your bible
"you ignited this fire with a match and a quarter gallon of ether. this blue blaze that you started is one you choose not to put out. have you ever seen trees collapse from the base due to weight of the flames they carry in their canopies? how can you sit there and watch these forest diminish to nothing but the ashes of what once was? you put your faith behind a rotating rigid-toothed blade fuelled by gas instead of a leather-bounded bible you so willingly listen to preachings of, on every sunday and wednesday. that church you sit in, the materials it's made from were once on this earth in their natural form. the church's parking lot and those handicap spaces you double-park in. you walk on the remains of what once was true. god was more grateful of us when we walked on all fours and didn't hold chainsaws."
by the end of this equinox, i will have fucked mother nature
"during winter, the river still flows while the lakes stand still. what best describes our love is the strongest gale in this cold season. in rose gardens you will find this cardinal commonwealth being invaded by the ivory infantry, descending from above. it was beauty against beauty, and ivory fell with the pink blood staining them, result from the petal pigment smearing across their uniforms. it's so sad to see the withered roses who never had the chance to fully blossom, who the chance to gloat in their time of vainglory, never came to."
wish my memories of you weren't so good
"within the dark shelter of my closet, lies a shoebox filled with memories. cliché, i know. with the twist of a knob and deep breath of preparation, i open the door to a world i wish i could forget. down onto my knees, i brush the dust off a box, oh so familiar. with that hand sweep across it's top, i find the words, "and you thought you could turn your back on her." i guess i knew i'd be back from the start. i pick up the box, leaving the closet door open behind me. i lay across my bed with the box set before me. i pour out the letters you wrote me during class. i watch fall, the polaroids of us, holding hands. you always knew just how to fold each of your letters in the perfect shape of a heart. the time it must've took, it makes me wonder if you really did love me. oh my god, i can see the stains your tears left behind in your last letter. how could i not have noticed this before? you must've hurt when you broke us, but then, what was the reason for our pre-mature end? dear god, the analyzation of your words is bringing my eyes to a watery state. how i wish you were here to wipe away these tears, but instead, they fall onto this note and blend in with the tears you once let go of. i can't help but cry, and count the times you we kissed under UV parking lot lamp lights. maybe we were in love, maybe this end was not brought on by a selfish you, i had never walked with before. i miss the way your hand used to caress my face as we embraced in passionate hours. how i long to find your bite marks on my shoulders and your scratches left across my back. i wonder if you still, remember me."
you're gorgeous and the sky hates you for it
"who would think that a smile can shine as bright as yours? i have never seen such a sign of envy in the rays of the sun. i never thought i'd see the night where the stars would turn their backs in fear of shedding tears of jealousy infront of you. now i know why the stars fall. it's due to those stars you call eyes, traced with mascara. i've always loved your fashion sense. the way your lips are always so red. they make the finest roses look faded. how you ever managed to make such a beautiful canvas even more gorgeous, is truly beyond me."
you don't have to be from brooklyn to know not to fuck with mafia men
"a blade is never as sharp as it is when it's plowed into the spaces between your vertabrae by one you once thought of as, your one and only. words never hold such a strong grip on that knife's handle as they do when it's presented infront of a heart filled with desire. a sexual act of betrayal is never as nauseating as it is when it's the crack in a promise ring and when it's all said and done, and the blood of a heart is spilt due to symmetrical division...it hurts more than an italian mafia knee bash repayal done in a backstreet alley in the heart of manhattan. with all this said, do you really feel safer with your back to me while you sleep?"
with your heart, facing your spinal column
"he is different from the others, ironically, like all the rest. so how can you be so sure that this one, is the one for you? is it those simple words that mean everything to the ear while in midst of the paplable passion, or maybe it's the way he caresses your hand as he holds it? either way, it's all the same, i'm leaning against my bathroom wall with my right hand put up against the mirror shower slide-door. the other, enveloped around my heart. i question how well i know my heart during these times where i lack endearment. "after all the times i have slept holding you. how many stitches, have i sewn into you?" she is in a new amour, with covenant arms holding her tight. i'm left to only know the sorrows and the truth of love being only a luxury."
wrist-casted brick message through glass, how cliché
"there's a blonde sun setting in a burnette sky. you're watching it from your third floor balcony, this time. you recall the times we spent on your rooftop watching the set and rise of this star. you miss the way we kissed, the way we held eachother after those times of passionate bliss. you close your eyes and wonder if it's mutual. you clinch the banister and contemplate taking a swan dive into the driveway, below. you think, "if he doesn't miss me now, maybe he will miss me when my heart no longer beats strong." but as put your feet on the bottom rail, you have a close encounter with a brick. through your balcony door, it goes. you follow forth in barefeet through the shards of was once, more. you find the brick at your feet, not without a letter tied to it in your favorite color. you untie the thread and begin to unfold the tattered paper. you open it and find one short message, "for lack of a better term, i'll just say, 'i love you'"."
you got problems when you hear whispers when no one's around
"the remains of my heart, scattered across your tacky animal print carpet. you sit reclined in your lay-z-boy impersonation chair you salvaged from good will, with that look of satisfaction in your eyes. you seemed pleased with what you've done to me. i'm at my knees, as if you took a blade to the back of them. by the end of this night, i swear, you will succumb to the same pain i feel. if by means of a knife with your name engraved in the blade, it will your heart on the end of it, tonight. fuck what you've heard, the clocked chimed twelve times to signify the beginning of a new day, but this night is not yet over. my breathing patterns may be shallow, but i will not die unaccompanied tonight. this is how we die, through the liquor bottle with a blade impaling your forehead. this is how you die, tonight."
on the fourteenth day of any month
"on the fourteenth of any month, you will find me here. on the day we first said "hello" in tongues, i'm sure you know. clinched fists held against a heart made broken, the pieces still remain at my feet. i celebrate this sadness with the tears that you never let leave me. vital signs slowly fading, life support is only taking a percentage out of my insurance claim. who will reap the benefits on my offbeat heart? on the seventeenth of any month, you will find me here. it's funny how never really said, "good bye", but we just stopped saying, "hello"."
let's be reckless for the minutes that won't matter in years
"it's too bad we can't break these moments of silence with osculation. we sit so close, yet so far away. i can count the stars in your eyes, but i cannot mention them. i must steer from this state of romanticism and remember our title together isn't of such high esteem. the words that dance on the tip of my tongue, "let's be reckless" nearly fall from their dancefloor everytime you move your lips. i try to keep my distance from that cd we once embraced to, for when track six sings into my ear, i want to experience deja vue. the brim of my heart is flooded, yet my lips stay subconsciously sewn. we put a barrier between eachother and i wonder why, wonder why. you say it's safer this way and the same words on my tongue want to come into play. let's be reckless."
a blindfold over the eyes of hope
"you should know, that knife thrusting actions towards the back always result in knee first floor falls with eyes open, glowing with disbelief. i know you miss your trust in him. i'm proud that you brought hope with on this flea from woe. i just pray my words don't play like a bullet and take her from your side and to the floor. i know she is all you have left now. you have found nothing here, but strangers to your heart. my arms will not quiet your fears, and for that, i'm sorry darling. you flew three hundred and seventy-four miles. what made you think you would find love, here, in this place?"
why pharmacies shouldn't be next-door to abc stores
"skies fade from amber to midnight as the sun sets behind tall grass hills. watching the milk weeds sway in the wind for the last time under this natural light. this is a cliché love scene under a tree. an empty medicine bottle falls into the blades of grass, with the child-proof top rolling down the hill before him. as with the spilling liquor from his paper-bag covered flask in midst of a wrist going limp. into a state of daze, this is the last sun set his eyes will see. there is nothing beautiful about this ending."
when greetings and farewells mean nothing
"we're going nowhere way too fast, show me the pain your heart has been through and i, will do the same for you. i will not play as only, the all consuming ear, i will tear the stitches on my heart along with you. we both know this will hurt and the risks are severe, but i'll hold your hand with each stitch that drops before us. just say you'll do the same for me. we can make the best of the our worst secrets, through scenery so perfect. a picnic set for two, under the indigo moon light. on a satin threaded blanket, we sit shoreside to a lake that takes role as the moon's vanity mirror. we can hold hands and stare at the constellation-cluttered sky. we can throw our hearts across the lake and count each beat it makes as it skips across this visual echoic facade. we can watch them fade in the distance and break the pseudo periphery of the twilight sky reflection the lake depicts before us. we can keep track of the memory-chasing stars with kisses. we can say "good-bye" to the pain of the past with an eye contact that can only be presented between you and i. for in the blue of night's glow, the angel i see in you is more than just a description of you. your eyes are the azulic portal to a world i only knew a third-person view before this time of bonding. we can fracture this inland sea's beauty and search for makes you and i, complete. we can break this basin's boundies and search below the surface deep. we can dive forth into the depths and partake in a vagabondage of finding eachother's heart. we can surface from this excursion, and return our hearts to eachother. we arise to a beauty we knew before, but now with eyes, enlightened. if the memory-chasing stars find rest in the arms of this world, and end everything before us, we know...we do not die, alone."
when scarlet threads can no longer hold the broken, together
"in that ribcage you can call the box to my gift, you found my heart with a scarlet thread encircling it. you broke each rib gently, and didn't untwine the thread. for reasons that were better left unspoken, you told me that you knew that i didn't want my heart to be broken again. but without a minute's notice, i watched the thread hit the floor. in a attempt to catch the falling pieces of my heart, i dived before you. you had at the sole of your shoes and in seconds, i watched you stomp out the only burning ember that was left in the now, dormant chambers of my heart. with your departure, i meet new company. her name is loneliness and i only wish you were as faithful. her touch is cold and her voice is nonexistant. my only wish now, is for her to become a ghost."
last words and single trigger-pulls
"you can take a eight-milimeter to the head of desire, but make sure the blow is fatal. what doesn't kill it, only makes it stronger. so make sure the gun is loaded and the safety is turned off when you pose this threat. last words are usually so cliché so just say, "you'll die like the rest, through the bullet wounds of forgettenence," and pull the trigger without closing your eyes. this is the death of desire."
my hands play the kink on your trachea
"if god's hands were caring, they surely would rescue your neck from the grasp of mine. your eyes are wide as if you are shocked by this action i perform. i have looked in the mirror everyday and all i see, all that is left of "us" is the tredmarks of your footprints on my face...you walked all over me. i know now as i feel your trachea loosen and watch your last attempt at breathing, fail, that i can wipe these marks from my now, brighter face."