Waking up in a hazy fog
Regular Sunday Morning
It is Sunday right?
Bits and pieces of last night rushing to the forefront of my mind
but a feeling that there's a missing piece of vital information
aaaaaaand there's a stranger next to me
she's so still!
God I hope she's alive
My jeans are still on so we obviously didn't do anything
wait why are my jeans ripped?
Did they come this way?
No they didn't
my shoes are still on too
well at least one is anyway
where the hell is my other shoe
how does somebody lose one shoe
losing a pair is actually more understandable
I should probably go wash the glitter off my hands
wait why do I have glitter on my hands?
aaaaand I have a black eye
who did I fight?
probably got my ass handed to me
or maybe I beat up an asshole!
no probably the former
I can't fight for shit
My head is killing me
I should probably call somebody
help fill me on what the hell happened last night
Aw shit where the hell is my phone?
wait where the hell is my wallet?!
Well fuck... shitty memory, comatose stranger in my bed, ripped jeans (although I'm 73 percent sure they came this way), missing a shoe, glitter hands, black eye, sore head, no phone, and no wallet
I fucking love saturday nights
it's friday night
and you're intoxicated
you seem excited to talk to me
we make plans for a road trip
i know we will never take
but even still
i'm ecstatic that we're speaking again
it's saturday afternoon
and you're back to your old self
you seem bored with me
we talk briefly about the weather
that really does not matter
but even still
i'm glad that we still talk
it's sunday morning
and you're not talking to me
you seem to be ignoring me again
you're visiting your mother
i'm sitting in silence
but even still
i'm hoping that you're thinking of me
You ask who's around
and who I should go and see,
but it's time by myself and that's
all it really ends up as: me.
When you're not around
and I'm away from home,
I stumble through each day
wondering why I'm all alone.
There are a few here and there
that I spend some time with,
But it's really only you that
I care to be around and kiss.
Don't get me wrong, my work
means so much to me.
But how can I possibly be happy
when one is my army?
Saturday night, offered to read your palm
When I don't even know how to read palms,
It was just an excuse to get to touch you.
And oh, touch you I did,
Sunday morning, nursing hangovers with scenic strolls,
Until our palms get sweaty and we let go.
And next weekend we'll do this again,
This weekend, something has awakened inside of me. This weekend I have lost my fear. I have fasted and been patient- I have enjoyed the company of my friends and enhanced in their sadness, their happiness, their contributions to the feeling of “whole”. I have seen human nature and kept to myself. I know that throughout all suffering I always have the peace of myself to return to, the inner quiet that speaks to me at night and envelopes me and tells me it will all be okay. There is beauty in the system, the system that lacks courage and strength, where cowards reside, there is also fault. Excellence and prodigious truth lie within nature, tranquility, the placidity and enjoyment of pedestrian life. Over complication does nothing to enhance life or living, and the creation of problematic situations is meaningless in any circumstance. To live and live in the lives of others is where true value lies, and I am settled, I am content.
Lack of interest
Candy with a movie
Candy so sweet and groovy
Popcorn lovely too
Lack of interest clouds my judgement
Lack of interest hobbles along
Lack of interest leaves me lonely
Lack of interest hates my being
Hope of finding freedom
Hope that left me restelss
Hope that made me anxious
Disappointment kills hope
Disappointemnt sacrafices candy
Disappointment confides in lack of interest
The tension is mounting, standing in line
Bass reverberates, the sound of things to come
Manic conversation and body language animation
Staying awake until we see the sun.
Enter the venue greeted by sticky collective body heat
The treble of the onslaught of noise now palpable
Without thinking, i begin to move my feet
Becoming one with the masses of bodies moving in unison.
The milk of the night, one in my hand from a mate
I drink it down as I become expectant
Excitedly waiting for my body to be seized
And exited by a juggernaut of positive emotions.
Every stranger is a one minute friend
Micro moments of love become my guide for the night
The music sounds like the songs of the gods
The rhythm and percussion of an underground ritual.
Every touch and taste and sound is heightened
An emanating aura of love surrounds the crowd
Smiles, laughs, hugs and high-fives
Throwing shapes and boogieing down.
As the party creator closes down the night
Masses pour outside drowned by early sunlight
All in search of a beach or after-hours haunt
To continue on their hedonic treadmill.
Betty and I went to Bournemouth this weekend
Spent an hour cleaning oil off the seagulls
Don't think we will go again.