02.09.13

You, pretty girl, said I’ll never understand how much you love me. But, I don’t know why you love me like you do. What I actually think is; why? I’m nothing special. You could have any boy and I’m just another guy in a band.

But, in another way, I do understand. I know youre hopelessly head-over-heels. And I cant explain how much you mean to me. You are the reason why my dream is now become a reality. You are the reason of the smile on my face.

Believe me, when I said “I love you!” I mean it with all of  my heart. I found it silly that you spend your teenage years thinking about me more than your beautiful self. You said “You are my sunshine” “You saved me” but then you said “He doesn’t even care” “Why did I keep trying” and I don’t understand.

You are everything I want in a person, why are you so sad? Pretty girl, you are my sunshine. I want you to be happy, you mean the whole world to me. Don’t even say I said this to earn attention because I meant every single word I said. You like me, I like you. Its simple.

One day, I’ll find a girl and she might be special. But you’ll always be on my mind. I don’t want you to waste your time on me. You’ll fall in love again, you’ll love him. And I’m okay with that, princess. Youre so beautiful of course any boy will fall fot you. Don’t worry about me. The memory of me will soon fade away. Maybe one day you’ll laugh when you think of me and your heart will flutter, a bit, for me. But mine always skips a beat for you. You are gorgeous and I cant describe how much I want to hold you and whispers sweet nothings into your ear. But I cant. You will find someone that can do that and when you do, please hold him tight.

Find someone who can replace me. Find someone who makes your heart race. Pretty, stunning, gorgeous, beautiful girl, you bring a smile to my face everytime I think of you. Please think of me. Smile like I know you do. And take a deep breath.
I love you, you know that.

In ran the boy with his regular case
of cheery disposition which he displayed.
The house screamed of anarchy for instead
of his loving family, he gazed upon dread.
The tall man - so dark, with hands so cold -
stared with black eyes, that showed no soul,
at the boy; so pure, almost perfect did he appear.
So, the man rested his hands to avoid causing him fear.
"Good-day," said Mr Evil, "What be your name?"
The boy stated his title with his bravery in vain.
"Where is my brother? My parents too?
Surely I do not know you."
Mr Evil's smile took on a sinister shape
until he resembled that of a snake.
"Why, my boy, me I do believe you know.
I am under your bed when you're at home.
I am in the eyes of the murderer; the glint of his knife.
I am in the fist of the man as he beats his wife.
I am in the face of the liars, cheaters, those who hate -
actually, I am all over the place!"
The boy, yet too young to understand,
stared in bewilderment at the man;
trying to decipher if it be a lie
or truly the man's alibi.
"As for your family," Mr Evil did proceed,
"I'm afraid they had to leave.
They went to a place of wonder and sun
where they are in contact with no-one.
Oh! How the birds sings and the trees are tall.
And the grass catches the dew that falls!"
The boy now searched for a place in his mind
that would match the heavenly realm described.
"Are they in the woods?" he cried in carefree -
his naive smile causing his gleam.
"Now that you mention it, they are indeed.
All three.
Hanging from a tree."

There's something about talking until you fall asleep and your arm going numb, but she's too beautiful for you to move it so you deal with the bitter pain of pins and needles, and stroke her hair and kiss her head until she wakes up a little bit after her dream, half asleep, eyes barely open, but just enough for you to move your arm, and a small smile crosses her lips as she recognizes you and you hug her and tell her goodnight. And the morning she looks at you with those fresh new eyes and you know she doesn’t remember that one small moment from the night before, the one small moment you’ll be holding with you forever, flashing through your mind when weeks later she tells you it’s over, that you should take some time alone and that you’ll never have her fall asleep on you again, and you just want to scream “I loved you, I cared for you. I let you sleep on my arm when no one else would, through the hell of pins and needles, and I didn’t even wake you. That’s emotion, that’s devotion!”

But you don’t, because you know she wouldn’t listen anyway, telling you to quiet your writer brain, she doesn’t have time for it today. So she’ll close the door and walk back to her chair returning to the work she was doing before you came to visit, knowing in comfort that she’ll have the entire bed to herself tonight, and you’ll walk home feeling un-whole, alone, like a piece of you will forever be left in Prince 302.

And you’ll fall asleep wishing to suffer the waking pains of pins and needles from a brown haired beauty again. And you'll awake knowing your arm is in a better place.

But your heart is a different story altogether.

When the silence takes the stage,
and I am called upon to perform, oh what a fool I shall be.
Dance monkey dance they'll say, and dance I shall.

On all fours I crawl,
your *****.
Leash me up
in a tight collar
speaking for your laughter.

Here it is,
my self respect,
I present it to you,
I give it all, unto you.
For I no longer need it.

It's a small price to pay for this life.
It's a simple token
for the price of a fancy gown,
for the reward of approval... from strangers.
To be able to buy that fancy car
To be the envy of it all.

To be admired...
For this handsome repayment
loss of self worth
seems nothing.

and it is nothing
until late at night
when I stare at my skinny bones
in a large
but empty apartment
with the city's lights
shadows dancing out my regrets on the walls,
reminiscing of the whole person I used to be.
when I was someone you could respect...
someone who could say no
and had control
and didn't live under constant contract
and scrutiny of the monster that is the media.

Late at night,
with a morning soon coming,
a morning filled
with my stripped body
contorting itself
and writhing
for the camera
to please a generation I will never know.
To flaunt materialism
and narcissism
expected to sound sagacious
and preach this deceitful verisimilitude
but teaching the youth
to be broken and hateful-
to live with these quixotic expectations.
and
it
is
disgusting.

Yet here I am.
Stripped,
broken and battered,
pouting my photoshop lips
and limp, sick body
to preach it day after day.

For It was so long ago,
that I was respectable.
perhaps I could better remember those days-
but in this life
with a restriction on ennui
you are not allowed to be anything but
deliriously content
and that is not a problem so long as this bottle doesn't run out,
so long as I keep swallowing these pills,
drowning out the voice
that despises me.

So long as I keep on acting.

It's the night times that are the hardest.
The image of that cute couple in the coffee shop from earlier flickers through my mind.
I look up at the TV for a distraction, only to see a tender embrace, loves first kiss.
I search for the remote on the side of my bed where a body should be,
brush a hand across the cold fabric.
I put on some music.
"And all I could do was cry"
Crying, Etta, is futile.
Each tear hammers down on my hollow emptiness like a drum,
a-lone, a-lone, a-lone.
Alone.
The alarm clock on my bedside table ticks and ticks,
waiting
and waiting,
ticking
and waiting.
What are you waiting for?

Time to go to sleep.

My least favorite animal would be:
Humans - but especially me.
I’d greet the end of the human race.
And point a gun toward my face.
And pull the trigger - so you’d know -
I’m capable of doing so.
I’d hang myself from a dead ol’ tree,
So that would be the end of me.
I’d blow myself up for no reward,
I’d burn alive or swallow a sword.
You see, I thought the sloth was the dumbest beast.
The most pointless animal, at the very least.
As slowly clinging to a tree,
most die in lifeless apathy.
(Because the rush of finding food,
Is pushed back by the urge to move).
But even sloths make habitats
for little creatures on their backs,
Yes, hardly useful - but more so than I -
So for a sloth to live, I’d gladly die.

The stupidity of human kind
Is that we’re all too dumb and blind.
We’re not important – not a bit –
just good at trying to reason it;
It’s really hard to not be scared
of losing everything life has shared.tu
Dying – that’s what frightens most,
That final eviction from life’s post.
While some believe their worth is measured.
Their souls live on, in heaven, treasured.
Reality is just a curse.
And humanity is by far the worst.
There is no superior tinker -
apparent to the deeper thinker -
That not a God could there exist,
When children die and he resists.
Not a very loving sell:
“love me back or burn in hell.”
life is meaningless, as It seems to me,
pondering in one-of-billions of galaxies.
On an average rocky planet that orbits a star,
And hosts the most evil creatures by far.

We skip the parts that disagree.
With our personal philosophies.
Life is governed by the tax
of being born and paying back
to the corporation we are chained,
and most are happy – they don’t complain.
They work, have kids, and all the rest.
They convince themselves they’re not depressed.
Through trying to see good in other folk.
Or putting faith in some fancy joke.
I hate this world. And all its greed.
There is no good in any deed.
Even goodness has a price attached:
The “You scratch mine, I’ll scratch yours back.”
But beauty is not too hard to find,
for those of us who are inclined,
To run from what has boxed our brains,
To flee the greed, to throw the chains,
and look up into outer space,
and know that we are out of place.
One day our atoms will journey there,
and be free as petals in the autumn air.

Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.

Tonight, shall we dance on the beach under a moonlit sky –
Cool sand between our toes, and the tide kissing our feet.
Swaying our hips to the sound of the crashing ocean,
Our stage is the illuminated sea spreading in all direction –
The entire world encapsulated as our audience,
We have captured the concept of being infinite.