the miles between point a
and b are too many
but as always, the race is on
...and oh, yes
i am in a race
of my own creation
brain calculates and recalculates
(is that an officer of the law?)
i practice the smoothest curves
but at the same time
sweet sassy maggy
follow the rules
don't forget the coffee for the love of god
make it to the one gas station by 7
for fuck's sake, get around the blue car
the black car
the raggedy old truck
before the exit or you know
you. are. screwed. for. miles.
for christ's sake, use all your goddamn skill
to get a around a stupid slow truck
or a semi
before thou shall not pass
or you know your rage will be uncontrollable
things are going well
you feel confident...you will be on time
you are flying and no one can touch you
your driving is flawless
that crazy sun is shining
and the bass is vibrating your bones
and then t i m e s l o w s
as William H. Macy, you see it
it's that fucking Kia Sportage
adrenaline shoots into my veins
and i slam into manual
woman cruising like you're on a lazy sunday drive
smoking a cigarette like it's 1950.
don't you know that i'm in a race,
and you are my nemesis?
The shoot out is over
guns layed down
one staked out his home
the other left town
a long walk ahead
but a deep hole behind
climbed up from the bottom
in just enough time
for the sand storm is coming
and the pistol-smoke is still fresh
he's leaving undercover
sand soon to cover his steps
Thinking back on the days gone by, when we were together
Intoxicated, young, in the face of stormy weather
So little we will notice
All the troubles that we miss
So carefree, together we grow
Not a care in the world, no...
Without warning, the feeling of having to say goodbye
The fine leaves of cold December started to die
Slight bend of numbers flood through our time
One even reckon on disclosing it was a crime
Quiet, like a calm storm
We slow down, left trails so warm
And blissful days are recovered
You speak for certain, that my flame's not like the others
Why do I sense the other end instead?
Fancy hearing anew, nevertheless
You have altered entirely, fresh you to boast
Never knew today would bleed the most
Convinced that change is what you ever need
Along with your love that mislead
The past is the past for a reason
Perhaps, I should have stayed frozen
Should have just let all the cards unfold
As it may be, nothing is to behold
Cause the past is the past for a reason
Shouldn't look back, learned a lesson
From a land far away in a long lost time,
So far in the past that no one can find,
Deep in the forests of ash and of oak
Lived an old man that the elders had spoke.
Ageless this man, though ancient he was,
Told stories of the time that once was;
Stories of love, stories of war,
Stories of greed and so much more.
He would tell his old tales to young and to old
Every night by firelight whether t'was hot t'was or cold.
To those who would come he would delight
With lore of lives past or lore from last night.
But of what he did tell where a few gems,
Chronicles of a man whose life had once been.
This man in the stories in which he did speak
Lived in the hearts of both strong and of weak.
So now as I relay these timeless old tales,
Imagine a time when dragons did sail.
An age of brave knights, of kings and of queens,
Of magical realms and things left unseen.
When warriors fought valiantly with weapons of steel,
And peasants to royalty would bow and would kneel
Enter this lost medieval land
Buried beneath time’s own sand…
And sit a spell, let me tell this story that I know so well…
It would take a true heartist
make sweet music
with this broken strings...
played by players
with unfaithful hands
drawn forth from lullabies ...
Let not this music be
forever the sound
but lift me once more to my crecesndo
with but your soft caress
that my heart
may once more know love
be my metronome
that I may again beat in time
It feels as if I’m drowning,
Waiting for someone to come and aid me,
But time keeps tick-tick-tocking away
As if it’s in a race.
I wonder if my soul is racing against other souls
To see who could outrun the other
Or who could swim more
Than the person next to them.
I wonder if my soul is determining
Whether or not
This fishbowl is worth
All the fight and struggle.
Because I like to think my brain and my heart
Are battling each other for dominance.
Battling each other to see who could outsmart the other,
To see which organ is needed more.
They say there’s plenty of fish in the sea,
But who’s to say
That there aren’t beasts and sharks
In the tank either?
A hundred miles below the horizon
Lie creatures that haven’t been discovered.
Yet so similar to our minds.
The grey matter that nurse our ideas
And cultivate them
They hide our innermost thoughts
And dreams lay hidden under them,
Waiting for the right moment to spring up.
My feet are straddling the edge of the cliff.
My heart’s racing,
And my mind is telling me to jump,
But I’m afraid of the unknown
And I don’t know what to expect
Once I dive in.
I never cry.
But this night, with a bottle of red wine,
and a cheesy, romantic movie,
I just couldn't hold back
When I found out about HER
I called you, over and over,
and still patterns are repeating
You should have just cut me off,
You should have just told me you were done
Rather then listening to me bare my heart
Through the tears and the slurs,
I was sitting on the carpet in the corner,
Waiting to be found by you
The next morning, I apologized
Profusely, for not being what you wanted
Or needed anymore,
You told me, I shouldn't be sorry,
I should just
I'm glad it was so easy for you,
I'm glad you're already in love,
Swooning and infatuated
Like a lover still in high school,
And she looks like America's Sweetheart
She looks innocent, perfect,
Pure, and her pictures mock me
Not even your type,
and yet, here we are,
Here you are
There comes a time where I have to
Come to terms,
Convince myself that sleeping alone is fine,
After years of sleeping beside you.
Convince myself that it is FINE
that she is now occupying my space,
on the right side of the bed.
That my letters have been burned,
the picture frames taken down.
There comes a time where I have to
Come to terms,
Make a choice,
To be okay.
If we could
Slow down the clocks,
I wouldn't have
the very first time I went to a phycologist
my mother had already spoken to her
and given her "the whole story"
so that when i went in to speak to her
she thought she already knew everything
so i think half the problem was that
i didn't get a chance to get comfortable
with this random lady
and then come out with my problems
when i felt it best
i was forced into talking about them
also i think where she had talked to my mother first
she had developed a bias
so she was on my mother's side
and thought her words were law
because when i went in and sat down
she told me i was being a selfish little girl
and that i needed to stop doing these things
because my parents didn't deserve
to have to deal with it
she said i probably had no friends
and made my list all of the friends i did have
she said i have to imagine being in my parents shoes
and seeing how this would effect them
but all i could think was that she didn't know
what my parents were actually like
and she had no business standing up for them
she couldn't imagine the nights i'd spent
crying on the fucking floor
with my father standing over me yelling
that i was being a stupid child
or the nights they would lock me out of the house
and i'd be stuck sitting on the doorstep
until my little brother would come down
and sneak me in
and so i sat in her red office
on her red fucking couch
and cried for an hour
while she basically told me off
and then my parents came in and joined me
and the lady said that things were going great
and i should come back the week after
she also gave me some homework
i was supposed to think about my future
and write down where i wanted to be
in ten years
also, she said that i wasn't allowed
to talk about anything she said with anyone
for at least two days
so i would have time to let it sink in
as soon as i left there i went to my boyfriend (at the time) 's
house and told him everything
then i took the fucking sheet with the homework on it and wrote
"in ten years i want to be fucking dead"
it felt like she didn't even care about my problems
like all that mattered to her was the money
she was going to make having me sit in that chair
for an hour a week
it felt like she was trying to cram me into this mould
that she and my mother had created for me
that didn't even consider my own feelings and plans
i felt ignored, disrespected, alone, and pathetic
if the therapist wouldn't even try to help me
what hope did i even have
someone please tell me this isn't how therapy always works
cause god i know i need it, but i've kind of been scared off of it
did anyone else have any experiences like this? tell me about it?
I can feel the parasites crawling from behind my eyes.
Time to take a shower again.