Log in

No account? Create an account
the jaws of life have me in a death-grip. [entries|friends|calendar]

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

2 | pick the lock and you will find my ♥

[04 Feb 2004|03:56pm]

this is where from now on, you will find me when it comes to writings.

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

i've seen better missile bunkers in quebec [23 Jan 2004|09:13am]
[ mood | you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ]

i've seen better missile bunkers in quebec
"you're a simple collection of well toned and placed skin cells which house a sparse framework of bones and organs(where's your heart?) that lend you a rather attractive appearance. you've got the looks. you're built to kill. now put on your steve madden's and your matching vintage outfit. turn off your record player. don't forget your "classic" cut-off jacket on your way through that door. it's murderer's night out. go grab yourself an emo boy from the further seems forever show. you've always been a sucker for a man in hip-hugger pants and an empty smile that screams for romance. you'll give it to him as fast as you've been known to take it away. you know it. heartbreak is in the air. it must be another girl's night on the town."

and what else is new...

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

late night t.v. infomercials is where it's at [17 Jan 2004|11:19am]
[ mood | what is wrong with me? ]

late night t.v. infomercials is where it's at
"fifty-six hours and a ci-section later. birthed with crimped ears and blue lungs. this is nine hours in a respirator. if i could write my past, it would much resemble one of those fifties family sitcoms. something like "leave it to beaver." where every day is less than thirty minutes long and the end of each, there's a lesson to be taught, or a moral to be learned. one that doesn't deal with buffered aspirin, ninty proof mixed drinks and a mother who's agression almost turns into a murder scene. it's not her fault. i never was a fan of the younger days, especially those that are my own. but with the death of those dramatic days and birth of better ones, i have come to this. i have no one to blame but myself for who was once, me. i have no one to thank but my myself for who i have become."

and this isn't a plea for pity, you fucks.

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

i would say i was day-dreaming [16 Jan 2004|10:50am]
[ mood | i scream, "good-bye"! ]

i would say i was day-dreaming
"but it was the disembodied whispers; those partial hints at a subconscience that knows better. it was them and they knew. couldn't conjure up the courage if i didn't have a heart, to say, "like an unmarked grave...you walk all over me." too catankerous to even indulge in my own conjectures. i saw it all. what is a contumacious courter to do? would any of you give your ears to the ideation that your valentine is just a further villian? i didn't. now i celebrate my asininity annually in the style of a deep six requiem. i don't expect you to understand. it's guys like me, it's bodies and hearts like ours that are built for pine boxes and hollowed out holes in the low key landscapes that no one expects to find within, cold storage catacombs. we are the betrayed."

and is it possible to dress a broken heart over infatuation?

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

i didn't order pay-per-view to watch this shit [12 Jan 2004|10:15pm]
[ mood | come back to bed... ]

i didn't order pay-per-view to watch this shit
"it's another flashback. clear as the glass of the windows, neighboring, but, seperating us. it was our infatuation. i found fault in my past, in the shape of a hazy-rimmed dream sequence in a seventies cinematic flick. just like that. you were the dearly departed. but through harsh reckoning and words less spoken and more thought, i find this open-eye reality to much less than that which was soothing. you're still alive. the junctures of time spent praying to find your obituary in the free-lance star, cojoined together is a period of months longer than i wish to hear you breathe. choke. six feet under is three feet too deep. aftershock, short-lived tremor, heavy feet walking across your grave, you name it. i want the slightest techtonic movement to rupture your casket and fill it with a soil, more blessed than you."

and this wasn't about revenge, it was about divine intervention.

1 | pick the lock and you will find my ♥

the amour industry [07 Jan 2004|09:32pm]
[ mood | just between me and you... ]

the amour industry: lecture one
here it is, the pages have been stapelled open. straighten your postures and wash your hands. i have each of you in check. actors, nationwide. i am to you, what leonard "valentino" montano is to magicians. secrets will be exposed. fickle fucks put on the nice guy glamour with the 'L' word and false-hearted promises to get through virgin walls. you're all like AIDs. deny you ever said it, pretend it never happened. afterall, she is "damaged goods" to you know and just another hymen broken by you. you adulterine murderers.

the amour industry: lecture two
next page. let's hear it for the "other girl" story. they work the jealousy and curiosity scene on your girlfriend. cunning killers speaking of signicant others or girls who fancy them. these backbiting fucks' mission is to convince. your lover is the moving target. they are only irritated with this "other girl", they'll say. you would think they ponder, "if he has a girlfriend, why is he always around me?" she doesn't exist. with cheap words at a more than affordable price, they work to make her feel tied down to you. next day you know it, she's at his house with the doors locked and her cellphone turned off. oh i know, this hurts. here's to the independent artists. we act with no script and only pursue love. but tragically, we are usually the victims in this crime.

and i will expose you all.

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

you put the 'comfort' in comforter [03 Jan 2004|10:01pm]
[ mood | the life of the living dead... ]

you put the 'comfort' in comforter, baby
"you're a jaw-drop past amazing, baby. when i sleep alone, i know i am without you but your warmth seems to embody the comforter of my bed. i know this so. when the ceiling fan's motor is going at full speed, it's your arm across my chest and your hand making a left turn around to the back of my neck, not this normally cold, cotton fabric blanket. i believe in miracles, i believe in love during first fight. the truth is anywhere but far away when i speak of you. you may look at me and think that every breath of mine is a waste of time. but so do i, girl, so do i. afterall, i've missed you for so long. let's turn on the stereo and off the lights and see where this just might go. love is the hearts and kisses, hugs and misses, it's the song of a palpitating heart we move to, as of now and always. and when minutes start feeling like minutes again and less like hours, it will be a lit cigarette we share inbetween breaths. i love the way you say all those girlie things, after we've made dents in the walls. don't turn the lights on, we are anything but through. in the black of the corner, is the blanket that i once held and thought of you. summer nights, girl are more than fine. but they mean nothing if i'm not hot because of you. summer nights, girl in southern lights, are anything but settling. these are hours, these are our the best of times. here's to rum and coke, it's a pirate's life for you and me. i don't want to see the red under yours eyes, so don't roll them. you know it's true. my love is here, forever yours. it's those eyes, angel, it's always been those eyes, and in the heat of early september, we made love for the first time."

and it's not confusion that plagues the mind tonight, you know who this is about.

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

is it suicide if you pay someone else to do it for you? [03 Jan 2004|05:43pm]
[ mood | perfect! ]

is it suicide if you pay someone else to do it for you?
"dream up a medical murder that would put gp harold shipman to shame. also, make sure the scalpel is dull. i want to feel every second of this chest incision. wait, there's something missing. what's with the lack of flesh clamps? this ribcage isn't gonna get cracked open by itself. now, make with the IV in my wrist and pump my bloodstream full of lead. choke me with your sterile gloves and resuscitate me with a kiss. make like it's with someone you sorely miss. i know you won't."

and i want you to use this floor like a hop-scotch board and african snake dance like you want more.

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

where's mary werth when you need her? [02 Jan 2004|07:17pm]
[ mood | ::clap clap:: ]

where's mary werth when you need her?
"the jaws of life have me teethed in a chiseled death-grip. there's nothing you can do. i've said farwell to uncelebrated days of birth and still five steps faraway from finding any mary werth to advise a suicide and two seconds too impatient to wait around for a forward gesture that the coast is clear. so, forget the signal flares, flashlights and search parties. when and if you find my body, it will be humble and unsalvagable for identification. somewhere during all of this, i forgot what "safe" meant. the cause of death, unapprehended by special investigators and the local police. i told you once before, "you can't save me."

and i saw you hear it all, complying with tears.

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

the black book diaries [31 Dec 2003|05:27pm]
[ mood | heartless... ]

now this is 'the black book diaries'. this is a collection of songs written for a possible full-length or something of that sort for whatever band i may be in at the time(preferrably willow). it's kind of a different side of me but yeah, proud, i am, somewhat. word. late.

1. snuff film theater pervert(1)
"i stimulate myself to the glamorous snuff films that are displayed on the silver screen. who would think that beauty really comes from the inside? in the form of this red fine liquid that darkens with the timely exposure to the air. oxygenated blood leads to the process of coagulation when the warmth runs out the door and in runs the cold. the process of death arouses me more than the action of creating life. i must say, the hole that has been embedded into your chest; where a heart would've been confined if you were human...is a great addition to your lingerie ensombele. i'm surprised you bled, i'm shocked that you finally got me off. all you needed was that beretta pushed to your chest. for the shooter allow some tears to fall from glazing eyes as his hand embraced your neck in a motion of restraint. if you didn't die of suffocation, i'm sure that bullet played messenger for the hands that take life like a amateur video award-winning snuffstar."

2. thieves on the arabian market got the same punishment(10)
"i see you tableside sitting formally sitting like a lady, with your arms rested in your lap. with that crimson rose nestled between your split-end free hair and your ear. i can't help but notice the blank expression that is installed upon your face. along with the ruby red lipstick that outlines your lips. i'll play archer if your lips play target, and for your formality...i'll send you a kiss. sitting here at this table with you reminds of the first time i met you, that three winks in which you first stole my heart. it was perfectly fine at the time, because you said i captivated yours, as well. for three months long, we played this game of achieving satisfaction for another. we were all-time score breakers, but if i knew better i wouldn't have let you get so good at it. for not only did you break records, your broke my heart. not even returning this broken object, you kept it as a trophy. leaving me unable to mend my own wounds inflicted by you. so here we are again at this table, and i think you learned your lesson. you sit so formally due to amputation of your hands from your filmsy wrists. you want to play this game again, you play with a handicap. you were far too good at it before and you stole my heart and ignored the return policy. there is one more stipulation to if we try playing this game again. i'll play vandal in this game of distressed hearts, as long as you promise me you're playing the damselle this time around."

3. look at the walls, this collage is made of you(8)
"look at the walls, smuthered in your own blood. i know you can see, you're not even blinking. i've never seen you content on my presence, i feel special to have your full undying attention. look at the walls, and tell me what you see. doesn't this collage of your organs against the tile bathroom wall just leave you breathless? i can tell i did a good job, your jaw dropped to floor, in the most literal sense. i couldn't have done it without you and the shards of this mirror. with every shard i hallucinate the memories i had with you in them. the most repetitive, our most recent one just made. when you told me those heartbreaking words how you wanted nothing to do with me. "i never wanted to hurt you. i never meant for it to end...like this." it's alright, because i never meant to hurt you like this. i never meant for it to end like this, either. but your words empowered the divine decision i had made. i never meant to kill you like this. i never meant for it to end...like this."

4. your word against the divine(9)
"my heart stops every moment the door is opened, and you're there in all your beauty. when my eyes meet your celestial pearls that glisten in the light of the fixture in my room, i fall in love with you all over again. i could be looking for a light in the darkest of places, and your eyes would be otherwordly enough to guide my way. the second i see your smile, i only wish that it could be in perpetuity. everyday, the first time my hands encircle with your silk-strand hair is a moment i am reminded of another reason why i am so utterly in love with you. at the door, it seems it has to be my lips to initiate the greeting osculation. that's okay though, i never complain with you on the recieving end. i don't see how i can, with you on this rope that fondles your neck from rafter restraints put in my closet just for this arrangement. i've only grown fonder of your inviting looks as the months have past, and your lips still steal my heart whenever we kiss. my heart stops every time i have to close this door. you told me we would be together forever, that not even the divine could sever us from this knot we formed. you almost broke your word, you just about broke my heart. you've always told me to make decisions, and look at me now. look at the way you make me smile, have you ever seen me happier?"

5. the red dances around the pink(2)
"lighting candles that have been lit before. the solidified dripped wax attached to vanilla candles plays similar role to the scars on my wrists. a night that i closed the doors on when i blew the candles out the first time...here i am again, but this time, i got the perfect closure. it doesn't matter if you show up this time around or not, you can play past as a present act again for all i care. if i don't see my bathroom door open and your legs walk in at seven, then i'll just make a quick trip. these candles so perfectly placed around my bath; this bath filled with your favorite bubble-forming solution...pink like your pretty bangs. so surprised to see you enter with that innocense played a worn-out baseball glove. however, i'll return the smiling greeting with a smirk. you think this reunion couldn't get any better, you say? with you in my arms while we lay in this tub meant for us two. well what if i told you there was a surprise? from the soap holder, i withdraw a familar lady. her name is colt, i suppose you two haven't met. don't struggle, i know it's akward meeting your replacement. the best way to seal ends that were once broken on twill-rope, is to dampen them with your mouth. open wide sweetie, i assure you no pain will come from this. please stop trying to scream, i can hear your teeth shattering against the barrel. ease your mind as the hammer is pulled back and the safety is disengaged. with my forehead to the crown of your head, with my lips to the back of your neck; the ties are seals. we drop into this hand-drawn bubble bath, from me to you. the red dances around the pink...again, this beautiful action that you and i will never see...is from me to you."

6. the slightest movements are what get you killed(4)
"the following memories burnt upon my mind by the cherry of her cigarette. gathering these memories of the time we spent infront of the mirror. with your eyes on it, my eyes on you. maybe that should've been the first hint of your vanity. you in my arms, with my lips against your neck as you inhale the refreshing smoke of your cigarette. your smoke drawn up into the revolving fan within the ceiling vent. your attention all on the mirror, much like the blood after i let razor kiss you across your throat. remember how all i wanted to do, was make you smile? i guess i got impatient. no need to put your lipstick on this smile, it's already got a coat of crimson. i remember the first time i looked i actually looked in that mirror. to get a better view of you holding that smile i gave to you, the sound your throat made gave me butterflies. looks like i did something right for the first time, because you were speechless."

7. your unfaithful hands should embrace moving gears(6)
"'don't hold hands with a liar...' don't turn your face towards this blank expression depicted on this white canvas that i call my face, because i am talking to myself. i've realized truth in spite of your attempts to soothe my heart on night's end. i've broken my skin far too many times over the adultry you commit to. you'd think that you'd commit to me, being your boyfriend and all...but that's just irrational. honesty was never your policy, and that's a hard thing to admit for me. because despite how hard it was to swallow the words your mouth spouted like a faucet, i guzzled them down. "believe me" with a face drenched in forced tears, a often used technique. time to learn a new trick, bitch. for you can't fucking spell 'believe' without 'lie'."

8. the origin of the term, snapshot(7)
"in this picture frame lies a snapshot memory of a time where i was oblivious. however, much like the glass embedded upon this picture, within this frame, this memory is broken of what it once reminded me of. the action this frame took from the wall to the floor much reminds me of the movement my heart made from my chest to my stomach. upon staring at this image, i see my smile accompanying your smirk. before this time, before it ended, i always wondered if i ever said anything funny before this picture of you and me was taken. however, never have i recalled a time of humorous remarks before this moment took place. it's a sad thing to realize that only time you were honest with me for five months was the second we were finished. after that moment, i knew why that smirk crossed your face, it was meant to be a depressing reminder of how well you held my heart in your right hand...and within your left, yours and his. you let your heart slide in and out from between your fingers, with his following yours. this had to be the sickest display of talent i have ever depicted in my mind. but here i am, replacing the picture with a newly taken one. this is a reminder how well i got over you. this picture taken of you after you first told me the truth. your body embraced by the shattered glass of your own look-out. caught in this act of photography, the way your swingset slide caught you as you fell from the window. the expression on your face, how shocked you were just showed me how well you didn't know me. i must say one good thing of you though, you are unbelievably photogenic with those glass shards embedded in your skin. see how well i took this? now to put the frame back on wall, so that i will always remember this."

9. caught a glimplse and saw the world(3)
"we sit idle in this car with rusted gears and broken shifts. vaccant eyes staring into a shattered rear-view mirror. seven years of bad luck isn't so bad when you are dead inside. the windshield caved in and cracked by a stretching branch from a long-lived tree. with all that is around is broken, just like us...just like my heart. we are a car crash that everyone saw happen, with only one survivor...yet, you still sit by my dead body. maybe if i could see, i could see your tears. but since i am blind to all that is around me, i will assume that you sit there and smile. i draw sorrow for you if this road trip ended in a way that it hurt you, but atleast it didn't bring your heartbeat to a sudden end. the one time i take the driver's seat, a tree gouges out my heart with a stretched limb. i drove right into it...i was blind before, and so i am blind again. i just hope that you can get my blood out of your tan capris...i'd hate to be an inconvience to you even when i am unmobile and deceased. i need to breathe. can you remember my choking gasps as the arm of the tree impaled me? can you measure the patterns of my last breathes...was i hyperventilating? were you even paying attention what had become of me? or where you too busy, rubbing my blood of your knees? i need to breathe. do you recall the last words i expressed, "i would catch falling stars for you all over again if i was given the bucket again?"...or was my voice just a noise to you as you checked yourself out in the rear-view mirror; shattered at our despense, making sure your hair wasn't a mess? when we were holding hands in the car, i caught a glimpse of you. through that same broken mirror, but at this time it was like new. i caught a glance of your eyes, and i could've sworn...i saw the secrets of the world. the most valuable discovery...was your heart full of love for me. but maybe this was a minor hallucination, induced by paranoia. i only ask now the unheard question...can i breathe?"

10. bent on suicide because of you(5)
"who would think the day would come like the sun across snow-capped mountains with a shine that signifies it's rise. who would've thought the day would come where i would turn the pistol on myself. how could i not see this day in the distance, like the sun peaking over purple skies? i should've saw it coming, it was only a matter of time. after all the sadistics i have partaken in. to instate vengeance in the name of my broken heart. i just can't see myself falling in love again, i don't see a chance in me enjoying the waking of my living days. i want to close my eyes for awhile, feel the cold metal of the barrel against my tongue. let the roof of my mouth play catcher to this fastball. let it be my brains blown against the shower door, as i stare into this crooked mirror. oh, how i long to be missed. i told myself i wouldn't let you get to me. i promised myself that i wouldn't let the events that have happened hurt me. i swore it all or nothing on the idea of me staying the person i was before. i guess i'm even a liar to myself. i spend each night giving birth to tears and wiping them away. i take every moment i have alone to whisper sweet everythings to myself. i use every second i have, doing the things you never would. it's far easier to find a reason to die, than one to survive. it's the hours, the minutes, the seconds that we spend alone that truly signify how vulnerable our hearts really are. oh, how i longed to be missed. this well-exercised trigger finger will do me justice. now, pistol of mine...judge me for the first and last time. oh, how i longed to be missed."

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

recovering the past through cut n' paste [31 Dec 2003|05:13pm]
[ mood | 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."

pick the lock and you will find my ♥

recovering the past in cut n' paste (cont.) [31 Dec 2003|05:05pm]
[ mood | these are the cigarettes... ]

don't make light of the darkest situations
"i can feel the cold, comforting touch of your blade against the veins of my heart. sometimes, it makes me wonder what exactly is the sensation about love. the pain or the glory. one thing is for certain, i am held your hostage until decide to claim, otherwise. your murder weapon will be three words, "i was unfaithful," and when that blade is swiftly dashed across my heart, you'll have me on my knees in affliction. the blood that will stain the flesh of my chest will play role of a reminder of how gruesome this casualty was that you created. love is the strongest and most unpredictable natural chemical imbalance that human kind, will ever know. the only objects stronger are game pieces you move. the blade that is set against the fragile skin of my heart in threat, brings on the climax. the words that finally slit my heart wide open, are the bringer of the tragic conclusion. one in the same, they bring you to the withdrawal i call, heartbreak. you say it's for the better, but my heart and flesh say otherwise."

blood for blood
"i now, let the cold end of the barrel touch with my forehead. with a slight squeeze of this trigger, you will watch assorted memories needed to be forgotten part from me through the back of my head. however, the picture these memories have painted on the wall once behind me will cast a new memory in your head for you. every time you think of me, this is the visual image you will depict in your head. the action of me taking away from myself, everything you gave me. blowing away this archive of memories you took five years to complete and organize. the work you've pressed forward so hard forth to only watch it fly against a wall. i apologize for being the wringer to myself."

chasing pink champagne down with razorblades
"let's not be bogarts with this pink champagne, fill it to the rim and top it off with a chaser. this razorblade. let's murder memories and that long time of soberity with this bottle. shall we cut off our connections with the past with this box of razorblades set by your wine glass? sorely bruised from heartbreak that which you, created. it wasn't your place to take such a role, you were a third-party mouth that shattered trust. with those lips that now glisten in the dim light coated in red. do not even bother giving me thanks through words, i know you're speechless. just thank me with counting every droplet that falls from your lower lip. keep track of each splashing sound that occurs when the puddles manifest on the linoleum. i don't care how many tears you cry tonight. this blood's for you. never have i regretted so much being someone's friend. this blood's for you."

crimson colored confession to nosidam
"i've exchanged oaths with an disembodied voice. i'm left with nothing, and her voice is simply fading. you can say you're sorry, but your apology is in vain. i've been killing tears with the texture of tissue paper. when the box runs empty, chances are...i'll have my eyes on you. words cannot describe the motives i have. however, one swift thrust with this knife, will do just fine."

this farewell will last forever
"how many times must we say, "good bye" to only say "hello" again? is this the vicious cycle we revolve ourselves in? how much longer can i continue in it? certainly not the duration of time you've reserved for it. give me one good reason to stay. give me one reason not to say, "fuck you" and break the memories you charish with violence. just do that for me, and i'll see what i can do for you. you stand speechless, but atleast you still stand. these pictures in frames of oak have been torn from the walls, the glass has been shattered, much like the memories they depict. your words have never trembled so much in your voice as when you just said, "is this it?" i'll answer that question with the closing of this door, there will be no "good bye", it only leads to a greeting the next day. i know that, far too well. i part ways with you now. this night will not end like the rest, in the release of my tears. it will not end in the shedding of my own blood."

late hours and eary minutes
"i can't pray for a positive outcome with you. no matter how much good trails behind this moving bullet, i know the second it makes contact with your forehead, tears of blue will fall from my heart. it's too bad i never noticed, the way your hair swishes like a collection of silk threads, until the impact occured and before i knew it, the back of your head had embraced the floor. what else can i say but sorry, to myself and you. i deprived us of the endless fights that took place at the latest hours of night. i took away the early minutes of morning where we would close wounds with make-up sex. i'm sorry for this slaughter, but this just might be the best thing for 'us'."

jay-walking with heartbreakers
"we live, oblivious to those that walk around us who will someday in the perhaps, distant or near future, that will break our hearts. much like the names engraved in the cobblestones of our cerebelums, and to think, these people walk the same streets as you...perhaps, at the same time, even, along side you. no longer, are you in the dark."

divine intervention takes far too long, i'll settle for vengeance
"i ask you now, the same question i ask in each conversation we've had for two weeks..."is it getting better on the idea of me, seeing you again?" but this time, i can't take the uncertainties. this time, i want you to lie to me and say, "by this time tomorrow, i will be holding your hand again". i know you know how much this, just like these tears against my face. i know, that the next time i exchange words with the cause of this emotional disaster...the conversation will end with her in tears. these tears i bleed in midst of every confession, will not go unnoticed in my voice with her. and by the end of my last exchange of words with her, she will be bleeding the same way i do. i've said it before and i will say it again, "i miss you" and i hope this time of distance, ends soon."

in a paperball, at the bottom of a garbage storage bin
"what would it take to know your kiss? to have that knowledge, to be so close to you. but how can i know such a subject, in the place i am now. you are not even a phone call away, this lack of communication is pulling me by my collar into the floor. your voice is so far away, how i wish it was against my ear, right now. a pillow simply does not do your body justice, i just wish i could hold you. in midst of frustration, the feathers from this pillow depart into the air and gently descend onto my surroundings. i notice your face is no longer visible even in this still-frame beach background photograph, the feathers have blocked your beauty from me. yet again, i am left in the blue of this black room. in how many analogies, in how many different words, in how many ways can i say, "i miss you."? i'll just end this crumble paper ranting saying, if i didn't think you were worth it, i wouldn't be willing to wait forever to know you."

mgm grand hotel suite patio pleasure
"the friction we make while under the moonlight is much like rats under a flashlight in a maze casted by the shadows of the curious spectators, above. being watched for future references on what how a love oh so pure, can become discontinued in such a violent manner. so, kiss the drapes before they are ripped away by the breaking shards of window glass that were once, not a hundred lethal puzzle pieces...but a complete transparent masterpiece, perfect for star gazing, much like we used to engage in. each of these fragments want to know your face the way the fuschia curtains did, perhaps even better. however, their kiss is not satin-soft like the sheet before them, they penetrate with each kiss and i assure, everytime you look into a mirror from this moment on, you will remember each and every one of their osculations. but that is, of course, if you survive the fall through them. you've never looked more beautiful then you do now, on the hotel patio, ten floors down."

hold my hand down these roads we walked, before
"i'm coming back for more, i don't care if you hurt me. just hold my hand and tell me that kiss was worth it. we can take those walks down memory lane and if we need to take a break and sit down for a second, there's that corner in heartbreak alley that i have known for years. but i'm sure i will be the only one sitting in that alley, i'm sure you can carry on to the streets of forward progress. i don't mind the palimony, because you told me, it was worth it. i'm sorry for having a callous indifference towards the mutilation of my already, open-ventricle heart. you could touch lips with the holes of my heart, and resuscitate me. but my trust issues are far too much for you to break through. for i have been on the recieving end of far too many judas kisses. heartbreak follows me like a pathetic pup on a leash, if i was to let go...what else would i have? surely not you, surely not you."

it's hard to stare at the clouds when you're upon them
"this is where i stand, at the golden gates of heaven. willing to commit blasphemy through slitting the throats of the most beautiful angels. to take them from down from their clouds and watch them make connection with the surface of the world, below. i am inclined to watch the people of below hurd around the tragedy i concocted. all this just to be with you. i can live with the burden of knowing i killed something beautiful if it means i can live just part of my life, knowing you. i will spit upon the faces of the lord's highest angels, if it gives me a chance to hold you."

sad realizations with even more depressing conclusions
"i've been counting the tiles on my bathroom floor while near a grayout due to unbounded blood-loss. i have spent four hours at the bottom of my shower watching the red swirl before it descends down the drain. spending nearly each night of my life for eight years, sick of this salmagundi i refuse to call a life of any sort. staring at the crack pattern in four tiles below the peaking window, knowing my head created that pattern. i look to this carpet that covers the tile sealing that's stained red. i look under my sink to find the book i would write in each of nights in here. i find myself refusing to unlock the bathroom door once again. still in hate of this eyesore that i have to call my, my family night life. i refuse to count the tiles, watch the drains, stare at the cracks or look to this carpet any longer. i refuse to search under my sink for memories that need to be, simply that. i will save myself from this salmagundi, i will spare myself of this eyesore. i will unlock this door and walk out the front door. i will bid, "good-bye" to everything you said that night. i will walk until that house can no longer be seen. scream your profane remarks and deminish everything i've done with my life. sooner than later, i will not hear them. i will sit at the playground and watch the first sunset of my new life, without you bringing me to tears each night you drink that shine."

this shred of hope has left me known
"hope has fallen to her knees, holding wrists razor stricken as the red blossoms from the flesh ditches in her skin. i can feel her tears falling from my eyes. i can hear her sulks in my voice. i can touch my wrists and know the pain that she is going through, going through. hope has hit the floor, grasping with her lips, each breath that will take to her lungs. on knees before her, i hold her hand in this time of peril. my lips are chapped, this kiss that bids, 'good-bye' is nonexistant. i turned my back to the shadows, i left myself open for the blow. i said "i love you" far too soon to be true. a lesson learned once before. i come out of the bathroom, choking on the crimson confessions that have been held back for eight years. i fall forth onto one knee, holding my wrists as they bleed the passionate love letters i once wrote, but never sent. my eyes glisten in the light of dimming bulb as i cry the many snowy nights we spent in arms that i never wanted to recall. in an attempt to climb up, i leave a signature of a bloody hand print on pale walls. the red lines that depart from this imprint signify the five confessions that kept in the palm of my hand, never changing from a fist. hope has died infront of my bathroom door, hope has stained my carpets with her gifts of departure...the secrets that i wanted, kept."

an invisible ink confession on black paper
"in this ink, i describe the emotions i felt during the night. my fingertips blister, but care? i do not, because it all was for you. if i saw you tomorrow, it would make up for every day that i didn't. if i could catch glance of your eyes once again, it would be bliss. i know that the chances of seeing you on this day are already shot. so i will take my arrow and aim for tomorrow. i just hope i don't miss and hit a year from today. the ink fades, but this need to see you does not seem to. this day, i know i will sleep through the rising of the sun tomorrow. but i will not miss it, if i catch glance at the sight of you. for the sun can never shine as bright as the smile that crosses that beauty you call a face. this night, i sleep in hopes waking up to see you."

caressing hands blindly pleasure the vain
"you wasted my time as i, wasted yours. you will no longer recieve sexual gratification through my touch. the time has ended where i will give you love and recieve none, in return. your lonely lips will have to look elsewhere for comfort, because mine will not play puppet to yours. in conclusion, we have tossed back and forth words that in the end, didn't matter. it doesn't make a difference whether or not yours were full of nothing but murdering sexual frustration behind the back of false devotion, or if mine were verbal translations of the way my heart once beated for you. i wish i could say i believe you, but your actions never lived up to your words. i wish i could say, "good bye"...but there is nothing good about this farewell. except for the idea of me, no longer obligated to call you every morning or seeing you each day. this is happiness brought on by stress relief."

you can't say, "i love you" at 300,000km per second
"in the still-frames of your absence, my world is diluted to nothing but silence. full-motion videos dedicated to the way we move in the sky and how angel wings should be one with your silhouette. we write the book on how to make lasting marks in eachother's life, with a catastrophic kiss. i miss knowing the beat pattern of life your heart performed. as hard as it is for me to believe, i am forgetting your face. i know not whether to weep in sadness or smirk in relief. i lace my memory with the fondest times spent with you. if i could assist the hands of time in killing the hours off that i have left to live, i would do so. chances are, our stars will never cross again. the trails, short of energy tails that we leave behind leaves nothing but the memory of "us" back in that perpendicular time. our osculation on the deadpoint of the x and y axis that belongs to the sky was a marvel to those who watched in awe, below. sparks of energy accompanied by shards of materia that flew between us on point (0, 0). for what seemed like light years of knowing eachother, it was merely a nanosecond stand. stars were never meant to kiss, let alone touch the way we did. we were not permanent like the constellations, we were a parrellel passing prediction turned into a x-embracing collision nearly cataclymsmic. the footage of our embrace can be found on e-bay, sold for as fast as we flew by eachother in american currency. it's hard to say, "good bye" at a universal constant. it's even harder to say, "i love you" at 300,000km per second. we were great together, we made it into the books of astonishing sky-born occurances. we were perfect...we made worlds collapse, including eachothers."

chasing tomorrow on every today
"i lost you in a gust of wind, in the lifting of the ashes around us. i will chase you over mountains and across deserts so vast. i will disregard the oasis that i see, for the beauty i search for is in you, it is...you. i will bleed through the acres of thorns, just on the ideal of finding you. i will find that single rose in the thorns, and i will charish it like the time we spent together. i will swim oceans in search of your company. i will walk on angels and through their imprints in alaskan snowfields. i will pull away from every eskimo kiss in hopes of yours. i will watch every beautiful snowflake join the already descended. i will walk over their now plain pallor faces in search of you. i will pull away from the hands of strangers and further my search for you. i will follow the stars at night and chase the sun during the setting scene. i will fight the rain and forget every raindrop's name. i will let them die against my face as i run forth to catch you. i will die of exhaustion if it means i will see your face again. i will find you. i will chase tomorrow on every today, in hopes of the happiness that once compelled me. those eyes that glisten so vibrantly under luminous star-lit night skies. to feel those perfect lips against my own again. to hold you in my arms when the scenery dissapears from around us. i will find animus, i will find you."

patricide is more common than you think
"the age of eight is a harsh time to be introduced the violent reality of a abusive relationship. upon the reach of a decade of living, you've seen your mother strangled in midst arguement. and to recieve three years later, a stabbing knife from your mother on a drug misuse with alcoholic substances. to find out everything on the television screen was based on real occurances. to realize your life is one of those occurances. to be a 'sad story' to your mother. and she wonders, and she ponders...why this is so? she wrote the book, she published it with her actions. seventy-two percent of all marriages in the united states end in divorce. fifty-nine percent of those marriages end in divorce due to abuse. the other thirteen percent is due to lose of emotion. to find out you are just another statistic waiting to happen when you're only twelve years old. it is hard to believe in love when your parents have none for eachother. it's hard to think there is such thing as a fairy-tale ending in real life with this knowledge. to realize that this life is a black canvas painted over with blood splatter marks to signify nothing but the red in your life. to depict only certainty of hurt."

mailbox messages from las vegas
"i wish i could say i still love you. i wish i could tell you that you were worth all the pain. i wish i could lay in my bed at night, wanting to hold you. but i can't, i will not lie. your letters i recieve in the mailbox are always more than two pages long. always in perfect cursive, it just reminds of the perfectionist you are. you said you still fall asleep after reading the song i wrote you that night. you always say, "i think i made a mistake, because i am miserable without you." and i always acknowledge it with one sentence reply, too short to be called letter saying, "i'm sorry you feel that way." you would always tell me how you get everything you want. i'm not your father, i am not a significant other to you anymore. you threw my heart across a river, it skipped about five times before it sank. i fell in love with a fair-haired girl who deep inside was puerile. i fell in love with a prozac girl, who tore my world apart. i think i am the one that made the mistake of ever trading eye contact with the likes of you."

end result; collapsed nasal cavities like micheal jackson
"devoid of this divine emotion. empty of what used to consume me. in a drought in the season of love. if only there was no such thing as "good-bye", if only if it was mutual from the start. the only kiss good-bye i know is the one on my wrist. the only lipstick stains i've ever got were surely not from you. it was always the razorblade that sleeps on the bathroom tile floor. in adventures crashing down white moutains, creating glass canyons across a mirror surface. this razorblade and i fly between canyons over facial-reflective shores. she's a crackwhore just like you. the only thing you have that she doesn't is collapsed nasal cavities. cavities, broken in by metaphetamine snow. on a tragic note, i die face first embraced by a shattered reflection. face first on the white ridge of a mountain."

grey meadows on colored screens have a certain beauty
"when meadows turn grey, you know the sun is no longer above. when the skies turn black, the stars play cartographer for you. the alignment of constellations who were just cluttered stars is a sight i wish you saw. if my eyes fall back into my head tonight, i will not die without knowing beauty so true. if i swallow my tongue in midst of awakening the new day, atleast for one moment, i will catch sunrise and say, 'good-bye.' if there is one thing i will ever regret, is the moments i never spent with you. if there was one thing i could say, it would be, 'you were the only star in my sky for eight years, and at the breaking point of that set time...i wish you still were.' you can find me, staring at the ceiling, counting nothing but the memories that should be leaving. but with every glance i get of that glisten in your eyes, i see that fucking star...i see that fucking star. those are the moments that i wish to walk grey fields with my eyes on forming constellations. that's when i wish i was suffocating on the pillow my head rests on as i wish for nothing but you to still be mine. to still be mine."

cerebral connection via spinal column
"you love the way i lick this blade after metal to flesh contact, concluding in a red mess. i can tell by the way you stagger back and fall against the wall during mid-blood loss, your eyes are wide open in awe. don't close your eyes just yet, this transaction between you and me is not yet complete. i step down forth onto one knee and embrace your chapped lips with a final kiss. my hands interlacing with your hair, with a sudden twist of my own wrists...i end your misery. now, your head may seem slightly heavy as your four of your neck-oriented vertabrae have simply been shattered leading to damage to your nerves; causing a communication problem between the brain and the body. connection lost, please try signing on again at a later time. i broke your four digit password and now not even you can log on to the memories we had. i did you a favor, i only wish you could've done the same for me."

the mindless art of loitering
"in a time of due depression i find myself reading your letters again. gathered in a black portfolio, these are my darkest memories. i recall when you committed arson in my chest. you lit a fire in my once cold and beatless heart. for once, part of adultry as "the other guy". you gave my heart a rhythm, on which to survive. now onward to the blacker letters in the back of the binder. where one turns from arson to the mindless art of loitering. you stand meaninglessly in my heart, you turned in your lighter for a razorblade. you miserable fucking sadist, you lacerate my heart to the littered shambles in my ribcage. you have confessed to the homicide of my heart with your last letter, in the simple phrase; "i made a mistake ever getting involved with you." your sentence is unfulfilling, it's merely non-existant. i'll take your murder weapon to my throat, and spill my crimson confessions onto satin sheets. final memories made staining the passionate ones that were confined and formed on this bed. with this kiss, i die."

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. 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."

call me cupid
"call me cupid, because my weapon of choice is a bow with an arrow, sharpened for you. you may think down on my well-known cruel intentions, but i plan on making you fall. watch you catch speed with this moving descend. i want to watch you fall in love, then fall again. to let your body feel what this emotion really is. feel this chemical imbalance, this need so much like a substance addiction. strengthened emotionally, by his unwandering eyes and his charismatic smile. induced physically, with this pheramone overdose that sends goosebumps across your silk-soft skin. but most of all, i want you to know the pain. to feel this withdrawal, of times vacant of his smile. of moments, where the tears don't tone down the heartaches. you know your feelings are in fifth gear, but his feelings went in idle long ago. to know the sound of the shatter of own heart, to know each of pieces sound as they embrace the linoleum floor. i want to know how it felt to be me, when i was in love with your prescene. when i was infatuated with your scent. when all i wanted was to in seeing distance of your eyes. with this arrow, you will know how it feels for feelings to die."

a mandible fracture is only wishful thinking
"don't ask me to "stay", you have a bed with someone waiting in it. you have no worries of sleeping lonely, without arms to be nestled in. i don't appreciate the offer of staying, your sweaty body makes me want to die. with a change of heart i decide to say, "it would be much easier to stay if you would turn your back on me, where your lying eyes are hidden from my sight." and with a quick reach into the inner pocket of my jacket, i unsheathe this blade. and with one quick thrust downwards into your spinal column, i can hear each vertabrae crack and collapse. would it offend you, if i said this was better than our greatest times of sex? as your knees buckle before you, i heard them hit the ground. and when your face follows, i thought i heard you mandible break, but that's probably just wishful thinking. now as i made my way to your bedroom, i found him laying on our bed. he had this calvin klein pose going on when he said, "i'm ready again." but i don't think he was expecting to see me. before he can mutter his excuse of nude modelling for a photography class you never took. i withdrew from my back pocket a gun. this eight milimeter was surely a surprise for him, he never had chance to get off the bed. with the pull of this trigger, i saw his brains splatter against our headboard. i wonder why they say the mind is pink, it looks more red to me. he never even got out of his little pose, such a look of humility. in a way i feel sorry for this man, for he had to be the one out of many that got to meet me."

telegram: from my foot to the back of your head
"in the public eye, we play role of significance to one another. we walk down center street, holding hands like a newly forged couple. in circulation with normal people who play consistent roles, we pretend nothing ever goes wrong between us. behind padlocked doors, lies the only truth to what makes 'us', so wrong. your confessions of a false-heart. you expose me to the actions you carry through with nothing but in mind, the satisfaction of yourself. how many times did i say, "i will always love you, no matter what you do."? you know, i provided the ideal, that you could do "no wrong". i gave you far too much freedom, to the point where there was no link between our hearts. i'm tired of being the lonely link at the end of a chain, with nothing and no one to hold on to me. you were supposed to be there, instead of at the club getting pleasured by him. with these thoughts dynamic in my mind each time we take walk down the street. i'm sorry but i must twist your wrist and watch you seize the sidewalk. if only you could've saw the way your face hit the concrete from my eyes, it was a beautiful sight to be seen. for once the audience can see, what goes on between you and me. i'm tired of portraying ourselves in public like sitcom relationship. i can hear your nasal passages whistling, the wonderful sound of a broken nose. don't worry, i am already in the process of fixing the problem, with foot against the back of your head. for once out in the public i hear silence, and i see turning heads. the look that comes across their face is the only thing that measures, just how beautiful you and i together, truly are."

nothing more i want than to see no tomorrow
"you have given me no reason to continue waking up everyday. to a sun brighter than my aspect on life could ever be. to a smile symbolizing a happiness i can never fully feel. to a world that only makes me wish...that i never took a part in this. i have seen yesterday and frankly, i wouldn't mind dying with today; before the waking of a new tomorrow."

so much for the love-driven sex scene
"lights...camera...action. with the lights are put to a dim offset beyond what is considered, 'us'. when the cameras start to roll at the sound of the director declaring, 'action'; we sit ourselves down on this bed of a queen size, but meant for only the two of us. as we both fall into character, the exchange of pre-written lines occurs for the third time. it's our first time working together, and you've already sneaked in the judas kiss. you've given me a heavy heart, and i can't carry this anymore. fifteen seconds into the scene and you've already resorted to improve. i've never been a fan of drama...someone please call, 'cut'. you're a great actress, but this feeling of unconsolability isn't. we never even had the chance to make it to the sex scene. i only wish i had the chance to break your hymen, before you broke my heart. finally, 'cut' is called from the crepescule reality called, off the scene. you so easily saltate from out of this character, leaving the stage as i sit on the bed, tight-lipped. now before i know it, those words i dreaded are called again, 'lights...camera...action.' looks like someone wrote a new part to the script, i only wish i was informed, before hand. this is the new addition, this is my sob scene. where i narrate my thoughts through lip-numbed words. through this song, i make known the pain delivered into my unwanting hands."

how if only i knew you were a contract killer
"do you recall the times we spent under the kissing tree, tracing constellations with our fingertips together? when i would ask which is the most beautiful star to grace the twilight sky tonight and your answer would always be, "vega." along with those times where i would say, "angeleyes, that star and every star surrounding it don't hold a lit candle to those pearls you see through. believe me when i say that, the words i have said are true." but then again, all this was said and done before you shattered the promise ring. now i am left asking the question with inconsistent answers, much different from the time i knew before. "how can there be an end to something that never begun? how can i say, 'good-bye' to someone that never acknowledged my presence with a 'hello'? how can i reply with, 'i'll miss you too' when there is nothing to miss about you? you picked up the pistol, clicked the safety off, cocked back the hammer and pulled the trigger. you kissed this smile good-bye, even though it might've lasted you forever. just please keep true to me atleast with this death and bury on the hill we watched the sunset on, the one above make-out creek."

[ viewing | most recent entries ]