Bahaha!

I don't study. I don't research. I throw papers together and hand them in without revision. And this is what it gets me:

15/15

"Wow! Your writing is astounding! Thank you for creating a well thought out essay. Bravo!"

Christ, I love college.

A bitter-sweet Cascade

When something doesn't work out, when things don't go the way we'd wished (with every fiber of our being, we wished!), our world comes crashing down. Every time, the heartache stings just as badly, if not worse than the time before. It doesn't matter how often your heart is broken . . . weekly, monthly, yearly, or daily . . . It makes no difference. It always comes again.

If you're going to take a life, take the time to notice.

I saw a woman hit a robin with her van today.
She didn't even fucking notice; she was on her cell phone.
And that robin lied in a crumpled mess in the middle of the road.

"Hey Ainsley?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember Edgar Allen Poe?"

"Yeah."

"Remember Van Gough?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't let that happen to you."

Thoennes

She was small. Christ, she was small.
Her beautiful blue eyes had been stained grey with old age,
and her bones had turned delicate over the years.
She was the beauty that time betrayed.
She was surrounded by an abounding grace I could never dream of seeing replicated.

Wednesday.

It is positively astounding how quickly things can change.
(Life long lesson, blah blah blah)

How quickly acceptance can come in the wake of panic or despair; Astounding how that knot in your stomach can be ignored and almost forgotten.


It also astounds me how disillusionment can take control of a person. And how illusionment can do the same.


How two perceptions of the same situation can be so completely and ruthlessly different.


I've got to get the fuck out of here.

illicit.

staring out a publicated window, wishing i could see what all you see
laying out the past like the distance on a map
. . . hearing your broken voice sing.

three am, but neither one is sleeping.
one of us must surely know why?
stretched across your bed; hearing your voice inside my head
but when will you ever decide?

and you keep tossing out those theories,
developing a taste for what used to be.

i've got a headache, but i've never thought so clearly.
the city lights-- a broadside through the rain
with a paler shade of blue that i half-wish i never knew
and a lifetime i wish that i could gain.

Still, i swear to you i'm not a liar. i never said a thing you didn't know.
and while you chase acoustic chords, you drink a little more . . .
hanging your, "i'd like to be alone."

And you keep tossing out your theories--
begging me to breathe, so listen to me
developing a taste for what used to be . . .

our hands are cold, but winter's almost over
with devils' sought to break these fateful nights
the sun is warm against your skin; thin but so divine.
barely dead, but babe . . . we're still alive.

dolby james

when you take away the binding,
I still have nothing left, besides this pain in my chest
and this state of unrest, but oh . . . it's just begun.
and I will not live and let live.

Broken bottles break the silence,
adding texture to an otherwise flawless night.
smooth as glass, but left in shards
like the monument of the heart
but tonight, she wants you to know
and tonight, i might just lay myself down
with a little more hope than i had.

Wine in a Soda Can

Mmh . . . God. Pack up and watch somebody else? Hold a gun to my head and force me into submission . . . force me to pay attention, or blow my brains all over this notebook page.

Maybe then the words I want will flow out of me—rampant like a disease—eating at the pigment of a memory I re-live, day to day,
but I'm not the only one.


MY HEAD IS A PIPE BOMB


There are approximately 6,808,651,482 people in the world,
Each one of them at some point feels the same stagnant monotony.


Contempt can lead to regret.


I regret nothing.

spoke

A curse I can comprehend licking my eyes
Suffering the silence of a razor denied
Open to wounding me—the disease I invoked
A merciful masterpiece; unable to console.

No one could understand when truth came alive
A single participant bound at the spine.
Far more than secret; God only knows
Too stunned to keep it, ten years below.

Now see the argument, now see the life:
Colour-covered flesh, sometimes crystallized.
Misunderstood the plea—caught unexposed . . .
The only things left were the words you spoke.