Who would’ve ever guessed the white bird was clever enough to stay in the sky, wondering what the point was to a year, let alone a season. Half your nights inevitably turn into day, the other half, aren’t as lucky. You’ve got to keep the momentum because if you stop, even just once, your hair will turn gray. Shooting stars are really falling stars and bits of crumbling hearts, but they only exist because we’ve played so many parts. If sanity can be kept when the rain and the wind shake hands, it should be a cakewalk.
You’re a catch within impossible odds, a rare one at that. you’re a disturbed solution to a disturbed equation. If the ocean waves enough, it’ll eventually find it’s shore. Old ways are making me me, and making me love, but they are making me dizzy because I don’t want to be me, and I don’t want to love. Somehow, you made a crater on me without leaving a print or a trace, quite possibly the only rose in all of history that didn’t have thorns, but I bleed anyway.
The moon sets in another ocean tonight,
I watch from the shore.
I’m not worried about how dark my eyes get.
I’m not worried about getting wet,
I’m going to sit here, and wait for it.
The moon rests in that ocean bed,
Held tightly by your sun.
I’m not worried about what to do.
I’m not worried because this isn’t new.
But I won’t be a cloud that ruins the view
Im not gonna be plan B.
Driving down the 101 to the sound of 1979, watching all the lightposts pass by. They come on time with the beat of the song like a metronome, this is beauty. Like the song, the beauty will end. The night isn’t raining but tinier than tiny droplets smack the windshield and merge together creating a wall, a layer of water between the road and me. I can’t seem to pass through the glass onto my road unless I violently slam into something, I fight the urge yet I never trusted the seatbelt anyway, The feeling of something choking me was jokingly trying to keep me safe, and airbags would just be obnoxious. I never want the drive to end.
I’m sorry to anyone that meets my sorry state, but the drive is too beautiful to ever mimic again. Once is enough.
Neverending melancholic songs seem to give me more answers to questions I haven’t asked yet. You sit and drive in a new car, new droplets and new walls of water to rush through. Why rush? Because life is too fast not to rush through. It’s better to burn out than fade away. You were right when you said we’re all just bricks in the wall. You were right when you said we were all dust in the wind, and you were right when you said we can’t always get what we want. But you were wrong when you said everything would be okay.
There’s no look on my face, it doesn’t move up or down, side to side, it’s on cruise control and doesn’t want to slow down to look at all the accidents. You’re eyes are staring off into space, looking everywhere except for my face. Everyone’s crashing and burning but I’ll still yawn and wonder which bottle will get me sleepy tonight. It’s sad and unfair, but we were meant for despair.
Nothing fits me quite as right as you did, but c’est la vie and etc.
This night, she sleeps as a sea creature, or even a being from another realm. The mysteries of her oceans are being explored right now by a sailor from another world as I speak. T’is the most painful of realities as the world of magic and splendor she tried to maintain comes toppling down against tonight’s moonlight. The morning sun will ache and tremble, for the dances of tonight will scar and become eternal. The moon’s reflection in the calm sea has been decimated by waves that distort the things we knew and couldn’t tell. Perhaps there was never a reflection to begin with, a night with no moon.
“I’ll see you soon,” has evolved from a romantic phrase into an ominous one. That same moon shouts it to all that succumbs to it’s mesmerizing gaze. The moon had lost its magic when that foreign rocket landed on its surface, defecating it with its touch. The universe was robbed of its charm and has become just another desolate rock floating in space. Among neverending rocks floating in space, now having the addition of the moon, my moon, in their ranks. But alas, the sun still shines it’s rays that are indistinguishable from shiny tears,
It’s so exciting! I feel like a spy in a movie with all the codenames and monikers flying around. Enemy forces are still unstable and snaps as fast as a ’68 GT fastback. I don’t exactly know what a ’68 fastback is, but it sounds speedy. I’ve no doubt a new system of tactical rendezvous have been established for the enemies, and my inside mole seems to have been captured, probably tortured into leaking our mission data. All I have left is my cover and it is likely that they’ve made me, and are using me in their grand scheme of total annihilation.
Time for a pancake breakfast and an afternoon of books with a friend.
“Don’t you hate it when you don’t get credited for work you do, Georgie? It’s not like those paintings painted themselves after all.”
I just had to speak in code one more time as an homage, haha. Anyhoo, I’m really excited for the week ahead, I’ve got two auditions in which I play a manic drug abuser who’s talks faster than he thinks. Probably a secondary role. And the other, I play a manic depressive existentialist who’s on the road to nowehere fast. These kinds of characters have always intrigued me and I plan on using method acting. Now the second role, I have no qualms about having to get into character. For the first role, I’m probably going to need to by a baggie of meth or maybe ketamine. That way I can be a complete scumbag. Free pancakes at IHOP today! I’m not a fan but I AM a fan of the word FREE, so I’ll be supporting.
Now to bump up Brenton Wood as I get ready. And I don’t have curtains on my windows 😉
I wish you’d slit my throat for a quick death than to slit my wrists so i can slowly fade away. I’m forced to watch everything happen in slow motion while the life seeps through my veins, watching every inhuman act committed by man or something other than man. I suppose i have to suffer before my blood runs out, but this is torture. I don’t have the strength to fight it while watching you slowly do the same to someone else. I’m breathing heavy and impulsively trying to fight to stay alive. Finish me off quick so I can just die, let me go, set me free, etc. just do something.
half the words you say are true, or all the words you say are true but you try hard to discredit yourself. Why was I fighting for to begin with? I don’t even know anymore, but I do know that either path I chose would’ve bled me dry. Shut off the lights, I don’t want to see anything anymore. Show me the flowers I sent, Show me the sunlight we danced under. show me the glasses with our lip prints we drank out of, show me anything but blood. burn me down if that’s how everything going to start. breath of flame from that look on your face. now i fear that i may taste these tears rolling down my face.
James Bond had this rule. Always have an escape plan. That’s why he is who he is. You were my escape plan, and now my lungs are about to drown along with the screams.