doris day
frank sinatra
bobby darin
johnny cash

elvis fuggin' presley. . .

in a world full of monsters

i listen to the beauty of the past

and i laugh

for our future,

it can't really be that bad
(until after


we're quite very dead)


and they listen...  
   to old people music
before saying something quite similar
about a world full of monsters

back in new york my life was a narrow vestibule
but my dreams were cathedrals
reality was vapor
fantasy as concrete as 8th avenue

here in pittsburgh i’m living the life
but my dreams are deflated balloons

Unsaid, untold  
Stains of sunlight, stains of gold
Ebony and silver in tune, in loop
moon lies, moon son

you weren't supposed to know
                                               I cried myself to sleep

you weren't supposed to know
                                               I hated every inch of me

you weren't supposed to know
                                               I like girls the same way you do


you weren't supposed to know
                                               I wanted to die too

Standing on the corner of hopelessness and despair, there is a house with shattered glass windows and a cracked stone walk way. It is often dark with little light making it in. Inside you will find the floor littered with the tattered remains of aspirations and hopes. Once vibrant goal now left abandoned in a dark and desolate house. An empty shell of a building, where you can find anything and nothing at the same time. A place where lives go to die a little at  a time, inside the house of broken dreams.

I've been looking at a blank page for ten minutes now
Giving myself a headache trying to come up with an idea
But I have an idea
Lots of ideas actually
I can see the words filling up the page as I think of them
But as soon as I put my fingers on the keyboard
My fingers are unable to move
As if they have been crushed by a writer's block

What even is a "writer's block"?
Just my mind playing tricks on me?
I have so many ideas floating in my brain everyday
But just as soon as I look at the blank page
I get amnesia and can't remember the name of the main character that I spent all night thinking about

If a writer is the protagonist of his or hers story
Commonly known as life
Then writer's block is the most evil antagonist that has ever been created
But where does this writer's block come from?
Your mind
Your mind is the writer's block that's keeping you from finishing that story you want publish
But with just one good idea
You can make the writer's block crumble like the balled up pieces of paper that is filled with horrible ideas that you trough away