so, live your life - it's simple.

So.
Here I am, with tired eyes and distant mind(s).
Deadened by a harsh reality.

I just try to be a good person.
Make others happy with my spirit.
I can't do it anymore.
I can't be what you want.
(Obviously)

I'm not sorry.
I don't deserve that.

Someday, I hope someone will realize that I've had it right all along.
You won't get yourself anywhere with your vicious tongue.

I guess I better start looking out for me.
Maybe then I won't feel so alone.
Alone in a sea of faceless "friends".

Whatever.
Your loss.
Hope you think about me when I'm miles away!

i like this.

silver stars and cyanide smiles.

i am going to use this somewhere.

Reunion tour or what is known as waking up in Vegas.

i am itching.
i can no longer sit still with this monotonous, unchanging existence tearing at my heart and hair.
i want it all and man, i want it all right fucking now.

some say it's just for dreamers (it's still the best i've ever had)
i know better ;
it's for those bright eyes who took it upon themselves to carve their name out of stars and dirt.

on-stage; bright lights; stage fright?; this is where i belong.
the rockstar life is just my style.
my destiny is calling me but my phone's on silent and out in the rain.

i know i was created for something bigger, better, brighter, bolder.
i wasn't made for the "everyday", no.
i was designed with the music pulsating inside my blood and veins.
how did it get re-arranged like this?

i can't have any of it, besides what i compensate with.
spending time, day-dreaming of the future that is not where within a radius i can even see.
but baby boy, i can feel it crawling beneath my skin.
(i don't need your substance baby, i got that natural high, all the time)

it's the incurable homesickness.
it's the late, late nights and even later mornings.
it's the scent of sweat.
it's the familiar bond of band, crowd, fan, band...camaraderie at it's high and low.
it's the strained vocal chords and bloodshot eyes.
it's exactly what i want.

so, if you can,
give me the glitz, the glamour, the sex, the drugs, and most of all, the rock and roll.
i'll be your rockstar, if you're down to be my bad habits.

7:49 am.

Goodmorning World,

While the rest of you sleeps, I do not (at all).
I am making this change today.
I've danced around the proposition before.
Now I see the potential I have been missing, with the blinders on.
Here we go.

Note to self,
Be healthy, sleep more, worry less, smile.
Sounds pretty easy, so why is this all so hard?

Oh, and, most importantly.

Remember who you are.

(Is that ironic? I don't know, you tell me. Oh wait)

Signed,
Sincerely,

Me.

maybe you don't mean nothin' to nobody else, but you mean everything to me.

you changed me.
you changed my perceptions on the whole, big fucking world.
you shaped the thoughts running wildly around,
and i get get away from it, no matter what i do.

your voice does something strange to my insides,
sends shivers straight down to my veins.
with every melodic excerpt,
i revert back to the beginning, listening to the dizzying beats pound against my eardrums, resting my mind against the cool metal of the black desk.
the lines spoke to something not awakened yet.
the imagery proved that there was a untouched universe i was not acquainted with, until you showed up.
your voice haunts me, so much so that i never want the song to stop.
i could be like this, always.

and, you are perfect.
and, you are beautiful.

i am seventeen forever when i hear it.
so are you.
the picturesque beauty of youth.
you will remain unchanged like that in my head, because, i am afraid of what you'll do to me in the future.
i trust you.
(but you've got some heavy expectations to live up to)

this thank-you note rests now,
every little word is every little moment encapsulated by sound.

and the truth remains the same,
you have been the soundtrack to my whole existence.

placidity rakes at the exhausted mind.
too much, too often, too far traveled in the desert storm.
blinking too hard and revealing the nightmare.

coffee and cigarettes, lingering additions of things i hate.
inside and out, myself i hate to think (too much) i've become this.
whose making anymore sense?
diction loses function from brain to mouth.
oh,
to hands to keyboard to screen to eyes and back to brain.

waste away the days in state of deadened-like obscenity.
wandering along the sky-line of imagination.
tight-rope walkers had the easy job.
one look down and it's all going.

lungs trying to tell me something, fuck it.
i'm not listening.
one day, they'll revolt and take me with them,
whisper something (fragile) like "told you, bitch"
but i'll be wide-eyed on the street corner, lamp post
sending weakened images at my retina's.
baby blues won't care then and neither will i.

back up above the earth.
sickness still silent, for now.
i'm awake, in a literal sense.
but perhaps the metaphorical needs more attention?
to seek, to sea, to sky to lie.
the end is nearing,
and so am i.

dragonette marionette.

backlogged every conversation in my head.
daydreams of the desperate seams.
i miss the days when inconsistency met eyes of your embrace.
i'm waiting on the empty words.

shaking limbs constitute heartache in this place.
well,
call up the doctor.
i've got every goddamn symptom in the whole, big book.

mirror sing-song sickness.
make amends with the mess.
madness never felt so good but illness never felt so right.

it's fine.
i'll keep wishing on the never ending love story.
while you're up late in the world,
some girl,
some place, sometimes.