Every time I see her
My heart breaks beautifully,
Like an egg hatching fluorescent colors
In an achromatic world,
And bleeds desperate hopefulness
That never evaporates
Because the air is saturated with wondrous destiny
That causes hope to thrive.

Sweet symbiosis.

As premonitions explode inside my chest,
Shooting stars travel down my legs
Because I've seen her again

In a tale told by an alchemist.

I can't even listen to my favorite band anymore because oh my god I cant keep picturing us in your car singing our hearts out and I can't even watch my favorite movie because i have to stop going back to all the times we watched it

I have yet to go back to the institute of art because of you and that was once my favorite place I can barely even walk to my car in the rain because I can't help but think of when your car broke down during that bad storm in 2013 hours away from our home and you told me you didn't even care because you were with me and **** I'm shaking just writing this

Days are dark
Roads are bare
Birds and all sorts of animals are hidden.
Everyone is gone.
Hiding from the monster that I've become.
A realization has occurred to me.
This is all my fault, no one else is to be blamed.
Hahaha
This is  so funny, I can't stop my tears from flowing.
Where are you? Please come back.
I don't want this. I didn't mean to do everything I've done.
I will never throw you away.
Who am I fooling?
I don't want you back.
Stay away from me.
YOU! You who brought pain in my life should die.
I wish you happiness.
I wish you death.
Once you cross this road I will make sure that no one will ever see you again.
Today the sun will never rise.
Not a single creature could live in this hell I created.
Prepare to die if you dare step on this land.
This is mine.
Mine alone and no one else.

They voted a certain movie to be the best in America
Which is all of them
Quality over quantity?
That applies to you
You're only one but man you make so elated inside when everything else just ***** so bad
I've been praying that this ends like a an embarrassing fad
I can relate to the daughter without her dad
Because I'm by myself on almost everything and it makes me far from glad
Am i the best movie in America?
Most likely not
They just pity me
But somehow i will find solitude
Somewhere i least expect
This is the army of people that won't bother to defect
I have quite a positive effect on people
For being a self-deprecating ineptly minded fool
Do i hate myself?
No
I'm just being honest about what is wrong with me
The golden brass with some class
But has forgotten the purpose of mass.

White-bodied black bird raven like creatures that sit everywhere and obnoxiously yell to each other from the wilderness we live inside.

Wet birds. Soaking in mod colors affixed to the numbers the looms set in the torn threads of an old tank top named with the characters of Dune.

And in sweetly moving breaths of air the peaks pull through this range of mountains seen from our back deck.  

Friends, join us as we balk putting away cardboard boxes as not to put a hinderence on the relationships with our neighbors and instead traverse the moose-trails the tourists stop and crop their lenses at- only to make to Brouhlim's.

We’re making movies that no one will see,
about things that mean the world to us,
at a certain moment in time and space,
but that mean less than a rat’s *** to anyone outside our bodies.

We never regret the echo in the large hall,
nor the words that OUR scarlett and OUR rhett say to each other
during the 126 minutes long director’s cut –
their tears are ours,
their love,
despair and
hunger for life
will be included in next month’s newsletter.

We’re making movies about those parts of our lives
that weren’t played out so well.
It’s our way of saying “sorry” or “thank you”.

We’re making movies that some don’t even call “movies” –
intimate quantum leaps, inner fights between our bodies and minds.
It hurts us, yeah. We’re not (all) made of stone.
We, sometimes, get frustrated and don’t even know exactly why.

We wake up in the middle of the night,
running the entire dialogue list in our head,
sleepwalking through the entire movie,
screaming at our non-suspecting sleeping significant other to be quiet and to get out of the frame,
“cause we’re ******* making a ******* movie here and every ******* second matters”.

We’re making (silent) movies because
we’re tired of all this noise,
because
that’s the only way we can have some “Aaaaaction” in our lives
and some frames to be proud of.

We’re not making movies to prove that the world is wrong
nor that we possess the ultimate truth.
No.
We’re not making movies to prove that the world is beautiful
and that we know nothing and that that nothingness should tickle your funny filmic bone.
No.

We’re making movies that make the entire world think that there’s something wrong with us,
that we can’t relate to our surroundings in a healthy and normal way.

We’re making movies so WE can experience, in the most familiar way,
the new wave long shot convention that YOU all hate
and diss in the digital environment,
as if your lives were made out of fast cut blockbuster shots
and not lonely, long walks through a dull park. Good for you, Max!

We’re making movies because
we don’t wanna have to explain ourselves,
like I’m doing right now.

Reality sometimes needs its own subtitle and.. ****! You know what?
The truth is that we’re not making movies.  
We’re making moves.

I've always heard people say that
"Love's not like the movies."
I feel like I've come to learn they're not wrong.
But they're not completely right.
I've come to learn that love
can feel just like those movies.
You feel stupid in love,
can trip over your own two feet,
blabber,
blush,
go on cheesy dates.
You can use every pick up line in the world,
and you can want to show them the world-
they can become your world.
You can stick with them through thick and thin,
You can do everything in your power to make them happy.
But I feel like the movies are wrong at some point.
They start out strong, just like love.
They start out honest,
they start out happy.
But the movies end up happy,
and love doesn't always end up happy.
Falling in love isn't always just like the movies.
Sometimes, there comes a point in love where there's a disconnect.
If you're lucky, it can realign.
But falling out of love doesn't realign.
Falling out of love isn't like the movies.
They don't show you that in movies,
falling out of love can be more than the tear-soaked pillows.
It can be more than the empty bottle of *****,
the drunken texts,
the going out to distract yourself.
No,
falling out of love can be worse.
Falling out of love isn't always the abrupt "it's over."
Falling out of love can be the day you go to get coffee, just like always, but your footsteps don't match up the way they did a week ago.
It can be turning down the favorite songs you shared instead of turning them up, turning down the emotions instead of letting them out.
Waking up to the back of their head.
Falling asleep in bed before they get there.
Going to work sooner than usual, because you need to get gas.
The conversations die.
Falling out of love can be staring at the credits when the movie's over, because neither are sure if you should end it.
Maybe the silence isn't thick enough.
Let the credits roll.
Don't hold their hand.
Don't turn it down.
Don't make a joke.
Falling out of love can be just as rough when you know they are and you can't do anything.
Falling out of love can be letting them pack without having a conversation about it.
So when you packed your things we didn't have to speak.
I remember the moment we kind of just looked at each other and knew.
You had this pitiful look in your eyes like you wanted to apologize, but there was nothing to say, you can't be sorry for feeling.
You can't be sorry for not feeling, I always told you not to apologize for what you couldn't control.
We didn't talk about where you were going.
We didn't talk about what was happening to our plans.
We didn't talk about the ring I saw you looking at one day when I glanced over your shoulder (I had that feeling you were being sneaky.)
We didn't talk.
So I sat in the car of the parking lot where you took me on our first date,
and stared at the spot in the grass where you laid down and stared at the clouds.
I didn't even get out of the car, and I reached for the handle time
after time
after time
after time
but never opened the door because you knew you wouldn't be there.
We didn't talk.
Falling out of love is how many nights I've spent sleeping on the couch because the bed smells like you.
Falling out of love is waking up for the third day in a row this week, forgetting you were gone.
Falling out of love isn't like the movies.
We didn't talk.
The credits have been over for a while now.
I turned the TV off and have been staring at the screen.
I wonder what song would play for the end credits of our movie.
Because I know it's over, I'm just waiting for them to roll.