words, my faithful background noise.

today, not even they can save me.
bitter cold and watering eyes.
and, it's coming closer.
i'm stranded.
there is no mercy in this place.
destitute, it's waiting to die.
they blink at me.
eyes wide (shut).
tracing patterns in the walls.
and, it's coming closer.
i will wait this out.
poorly written, poorly sought.
my lungs are breaking.
and where am i now?
this is too good to get old.
singled out in the shrinking crowd.
everywhere, it is coming for me.
or so i say.
today, the message lingers.
too far gone to come back written.
do you think of me?
or my crackling bones?
take my heart.
(i think) he took my soul.
and, it's coming so much closer.
finally, finally.
it has arrived.
the storm has bubbled up from the sea.

head games, it's all the same.

i am perpetually boring.
my life is made up of me, just over-analyzing absolutely everything.
most days, i wish the drama would find me, just so i could have something to write about.
i need the inspiration.
i need the attention.
(baby, give me a break)
i want to be able to write like him.
i am so jealous of his work, his thoughts, his words.
what i wouldn't give to get inside his head.
to see it through his eyes.
to interpret things in such a way.
maybe then, i would feel it all?
doubtful, i am already who i am supposed to be.
...i think.
i need the template.
there is nothing else like it.

i can't wait for the summer.
for lazy, hazy days, when nothing seems to matter.
bring on the (body) heat.
bring on perfect times.
i don't really feel like growing up.
this may be my last chance to hold onto my youth.
sometimes, i feel so much older.
like an elderly man, caught in this body.
i just want my bowler hat and newspapers?
is that so un-ordinary?
time is ticking by and i just can't hold it anymore.
i am giving in to the real me.

my life is just full of questions.
this or that or which or what?
the television just asked me,
"...why is there always a fruitstand?"
and now i'm wondering it myself.
perhaps it's all one comedy of errors.
actually.
i think that is exactly what it is.

sleepless in sea(attle).

i am made of angels and kings.
star-light, delicacy and broken things.
eyes look to the sky;
but all i see are the skyscrapers.
the dirty city is callin' my name.
it's all i can do to keep on keeping on.
the sidewalks are cracked with the sighs of your voice.
like the cracks in my lips, so sore and swollen.
from smiling at the images in my brain.
play like a movie, spinning the reel, around and around.
fall leaves swirl around my feet.
i dance, i dance, i dance toward your beat.
where are you?
i wonder, if to naught but myself.
you are made of the simplest thoughts.
precisely why it all works.
the long division is really quite easy,
when you look at me like that.
tapping my toes along the street.
i am coming to find you.
i am twirling in the wind.
you may be impossible.
met with the gaze of strangers.
you are not them and they not you.
until then, the soundtrack keeps playing.
and all i am saying,
is that it's you and me and me and you,
this whole little city is our whole little muse.

dear gravity, you held me down (in this starless city)

my life was not made to be a simple one.
carefree effervescence looks not upon me with those kind eyes and helpful smile.
i realized this years ago.
to accept it is another feat.
i wait and wonder when my day is coming; the one where everything will magically fall into place.
it hasn't happened yet.
nor will it.
things are much easier when they are upside down and broken.
that is when i feel at home.
everything that was ever right is wrong here.
looking back at me, taunting.
you, will the charming tale, i envy.
i think to myself "how luck must seem to him"
but even you must have your problems.
perhaps i am selfish to think i am alone in my misery.
perhaps we are all just miserable together.
i will keep waiting for my day.
i am going to break out.
you will regret everything you've put me through.
then you will know what it is like...
then you will know my story.

a conundrum to deconstruct, but only if you will.

you speak with the silence.
i don't know how it works.
your mouth moves in the correct patterns,
but no sound escapes those lips.
you are a mystery to me.

i think i like this too much.
the game of give and take.
then again,
it's only inside my head.
that airport terminal.
you're passing through.
no delays this time.
i wish i could've caught you in the blizzard.
but you got your way,
with clear blue skies.
so move onto the next one.

i sit and stare at myself in the mirror.
the invisible(s).
deconstruct myself for you.
what is it worth?
when all those others are playing too.

i need a rookie.
i need a saint.
all you are is a patron of deceit.
good luck to you in this, or any other, life.
i can promise you one thing,
if nothing else.

you will give new meaning to lonely heart's club band.

microphone, can ya hear me singing?

...shit.
i am forgetful.
losing my place in line, all the time.
where did the longest nights go?
wide awake and bleary eyed.
starry sky.
i don't know where the poison went.
but i can still feel it.
you are the toxins,
clouding my head.
i'd rather be anywhere instead.
why am i always cold?
are my veins freezing completely?
no,
that's not it at all.
i've lost my warm heart.
it's two sizes too small, or, maybe,
not there at all.
i don't care (what you think)
at least, i'm alive.
momentary lapses on my mind.
so, like i said,
i'm forgetful.
wait...
what was i saying again?