I tried making a more positive song for my second one, I hope you all hate it and make fun of me
“Do you realize… that everyone… you know… someday… will die
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It’s hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn’t go down
It’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round”
-just the feeling i got, as I try to make it out of here alive-
Source:
tomorrow around noon I have a feeling that I will be let down, I will not be happy about what I have been waiting for
I guess its good to be expecting disappointment
yet how can I be disappointed if your expecting it
that is an impressive internal struggle
simultaneously being eager, hopeful and excited
yet know I will be let down and disappointed
knowing i will just have to go eehhhh okay well it could be worse
so I am split in two
Fucking Pumped/Completely Devastated
and yet I will end up in the middle
Fuck you Quantum Mechanics
I love you but you make me think like this
All Possibilities
PS-Axl stay the fuck away from me, no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no. Like really no fucking GnR like NO!
please just ask me what you want to ask me
please say it with honest convictions
I am hear for happiness
so I can be truly happy
-
see your eyes in the mirror
they dance across
outlining your frame
you sigh and think
you
will never be the same
-
You are better now
you got glasses
a new prescription
for your mind
you have started to see yourself
new
-
It was you all along
just hidden
due to insecurities
you wouldn’t let the world
beat you up
but now your skin
can take any blow
-
You in your skin
with more then tissue and bones below
full of more then just air in your lungs
and the water in your mouth
It is you through
out all time
because it really all happened at once
we are just seeing it unfold
-
We exist
all of us
every form of us
we are still
in forth grade
and already in the ground
-
keep your eyes peeled
life is here for you
just live it the way
it was meant
for
you
let go
don’t try to fight it
you know what they say
insomnia never killed anyone
it started slow but has really moved in and made itself feel at home.
eyes just dance following the motion
darkness
TV glare
darkness
music slowly beats in the air
darkness
silence
my mind twitches and wont let me drift
it bails the anchor and cant set sail
tomorrow today
my mind thinks it has something to say
nothing new just the same old rap
smoke around my head, emergency hatch
spacing
just look at the corner its always their
maybe a laugh but mostly irritation
they say their ain’t no sleep for an angry young man
well i am not angry
and I’m no mess
just a person with a voice
a man with a mind that has a mind of its own
so maybe its not me who needs to get some sleep after all
god takes care of himself
you and you
and you
and
you
think he really is out
and about
shaking babies and
kissing hands
He is more like the
lie you told yourself in 4th grade
so you thought you were cooler then
the Stone Cold Steve Austin shirt you wore
Dont Trust Anybody
hahahahahaha
its kind of funny now
I
am
soon
to be
the 27
year
old
jesus
just give me 2 and 1/2 years
I might be ready
to take down those god damn shrimp eaters
fuck abomination
I clear my mind of
all
the
thoughts
that would only
slow
me down
.
..
…
….
…..
….
…
..
.
Yeah that would just be not thinking
how do people do that
not think
not
process
any
though
imposible
you cant tell me you are thinking nothing
nothing you want to talk about a loud
is that it
then just say something vague
like
“this time in 4th grade”
or
“I was trying to recall how much I have in my bank account without having to check”
how about try
actually whats on your mind
to many people holding things
in
inside themself
going crazy
the people in your life are free therapist
use that time at the bar as therapy
you could both use it
most likely
that is
sorry if it offends you
the
truth that is
everyone could use some time to talk
say whats really on the mind
say out loud all the
things you hide
“today I had a really troubling thought”
“Yeah,(nervous friendly laughter) what was it”
“I pushed my brother down a cliff while we were skiing”
“WHAT?!? Like this is a dream?”
“No, I was just thinking of pushing him over the edge. You know, just thinking about how it would feel.”
“HAHAHAHA are you kidding me, this a real thought you had today? You are rediculous.”
“HAHAHA I know but honestly, you know my brother, his face rolling/falling down the mountain. He is a goon.”
Bam
done
get it out
anything
people
are turning into
champagne
everyday
not that we are all growing like grapes in the champagne region in france
sparkling white wine(grown in France)=Champagne
sparkling white wine(grown anywhere else)=Sparkling White
we have so much pressure building up daily in our silly little heads
some people pop off and fly into the distance
others pop off and fly into our collective eye
blinding us of the real reason something awful happened
and replacing it with some
artificial cover story that will sell print
I want the paper
that speaks your mind
open up that third eye
see the world for what it is to you
not how others view it
we all see things differently
and we see things different
day
to day
I looked at myself today and I saw
a man
in sheep’s clothing
like I was wearing wool
BAAHHH
like really
i just saw myself today
like the bare bones version
you get for a little cheaper because the cd changer adds this whole
entertainment package and no one has time for my jokes
(ain’t no body got time for that)
yesterday I was a jester
before that I was a king
then the other day I was
grey
or gray
today I just exist
like a plastic bag from the grocery store you take home to reuse or to
do something else with
I just exist
and
right now
just existing
isnt to bad
its not to bad at all
as long as you let me
exist
with you
I stepped back into the room
I grabbed what I previously had in my hand
some call it a glass
it holds liquids at times
Now it was holding me
nope never mind
that was the acid talking
I couldnt fit in that glass
I am not the kool-aid man
I want to be a spy and use this glass
against a door
or a wall
Then again I will probably just climb out of this glass anyway
Damn it
I
Am
Not
In
The
Glass
So, I am just going to set this back down
I am recalling why I sat it down in the first place
What did this start as
What did any of this start as
Did we really make it this far
with shoes and cars
tall and small buildings
with big glass walls
Oh there is that glass I put down
I like the way it feels in my hand
smooth and cold
I wonder how I got in the glass in the first place
Did I climb over the brim
or
did I fall
Its only my reflection it turned out
I was never in that glass really
silly
thinking your in a glass
that holds liquids
like sweat and tears
no
no
no
thats a rag or a towel or
a
tissue
this glass was for gin
or orange juice
or both
but would end up with whisky in it
am I the whiskey
metaphorically
speaking of course
I could not turn
in
to
whisky
I guess then I would really be inside you
shaking all around
huh
i kind of want to be inside you
like magic school bus style
not like magic mike
I want to see what makes you tick
how you work
I want to see if your held together
with silly-putty
and scotch-tape
little bit of twine
like me
but I bet you are
made of
shinny
happy
things
or a
steam engine
yeah
you are the over the top chemistry set
you know that steams and whistles and does
loopiedy-loops
just to produce a drop
I love those
well
uh
how did I get in this glass
What did I do to
how did I manage
oh yeah that’s right
I am not in this glass
this glass is just simply all around me
We sat looking
you said my eyes where
grey
today
that is new to me
grey
grey
grey
I ponder why i hate
grey
but love the sight of
bare trees
how can I not see the glory of
grey
is it the way i say it
is it the connotation we associate with
grey
is it
that i am use to the words
pretty blue eyes
coming from your mouth
but you said
grey
this time
grey
but you said it the same
as
pretty blue eyes
I know
i have always known
these eyes are yours
you pick what
pigment
you get to see
me
see you in
Adore.
So Lord Byron and The Doctor walk into a T.A.R.D.I.S
Who do you think Manfred is about?
Source: observando
by
Emily Perl Kingsley.
c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this……
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”
“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”
But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills….and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things … about Holland.
She thought of five reasons not to call him back.
i.
you met when you were fifteen. he was seventeen and he was beautiful. there is truly no other word to describe it- he was beautiful. he had short brown hair and blue eyes ringed with black and plump red lips and cheek bones that could slice a finger and a jaw line to kill for. he had the type of face that could change a life.
he had the type of face that changed yours.
ii.
he called you fairy girl. you were so small and so young and there was never enough air when you were around him, so in the loveliest sort of way, with every kiss he gave you his breath.
“you’re going to break my heart” he said to you once.
he was trying to light a cigarette, his fingers slipping on the lighter, the cool breeze blowing out the flame every time it flickered on. you had just gone to the burger place in town and you were on the bridge over the freeway, throwing stale french fries at the passing cars.
“what?” it was almost like winter had stolen your voice, reached in with grasping fingers and plucked it right out of your throat. you were so small and so young.
“you’re going to break my heart, fairy girl. i don’t know when, but it’s gonna happen.” he said, the cigarette lit between his fingers, the embers glowing bright red in the grey afternoon.
you took a shaky breath, “i think it’s the other way around”
he looked up at you and laughed, shaking his head, eyes wide open as if he really just couldn’t believe what you said. he finished his cigarette and tossed it over and you watched it become a crushed, withered thing under the rubber tires of passing cars.
iii.
you were undefined. you yearned for him to call you his girlfriend, to identify you as something more than the little sophomore he hung out with and sometimes kissed, to make whatever you had a real thing, something that you could look back on and remember completely. he never did.
once, in front of his friends, gorgeous girls with razor cut black hair and ripped jeans and lean boys with sharp grins and long hair, he grabbed you by the hip and pulled you into him, slowly running his fingers up and down your torso, slightly pulling up the hem of your shirt. he was talking to them about a band or something and suddenly one of the girls looked at his hand casually wrapped around your waist and smirked.
“is this your new toy?” she asked, staring directly at him, not even glancing at you.
“no, i like this one. fairy girl over here is going to save me.” he responded, his fingers digging tighter into your skin.
later, you asked.
it was early winter, the flourescent street lights illuminating the dying flowers, casting an orange glow on the dry grass. you were in his car, a present he got from his executive dad when he turned sixteen. the engine was off and you were cringing at the muted yells you could hear coming from your house.
your parents were literally screaming at each other and it was so fucking embarrassing, the whole fucking neighborhood could hear them and all you could think was, jesus, can’t they just get divorced or something already. you were blushing a little, heat driving up your cheeks but he turned up the music a little and suddenly you couldn’t hear anything but the sound of some shitty indie band and your own breathing.
“what the hell do you mean i’m going to save you?”
he had driven you home and you were going to let it go, really, you were. you were going to kiss him good bye and push open the car door and walk in and work as the negotiator between your parents. they were like two unmoving icebergs and most nights, you sank. you were going to say good bye and go inside and never mention anything. but you hesitated.
confusion drew thin lines between his brows. “i was just spouting shit. it doesn’t mean anything.”
suddenly, this irrational anger flooding your chest and your ears and your heart. nobody was listening and nothing was okay and there was no one to take it out on but him.
“does anything matter to you? you say things you don’t mean and you don’t even call me by my real name and i don’t even know what we are. do we mean anything?”
he almost laughed and then, he just kissed you and he tasted like trident spearmint and he was cupping your cheeks, brushing away tears you didn’t even know was there.
“you mean a lot. i don’t hang out with people i don’t care about and i definitely don’t kiss them. you mean a lot, fairy girl, you really do.”
you were reassured, pacified for the night. your lips tingled and you kissed him again and you went home.
iv.
he took you to a friend’s party for new years. it was also your birthday, sixteen finally and you were having your party with your parents and friends the next night.
your mom was pregnant, a surprise that allowed your parents to take a “new step in the right direction” for their marriage. they were giggly and loving and they even canceled their appointments with their marriage counselor. your mom was reading one of her old maternity books on the couch, rubbing her sightly swollen stomach and your father told you to have fun.
he was wearing jeans and a shirt, a little wrinkled but regardless, he looked prettier than you. sometimes it really shocked you, how fucking pretty he was, as if aphrodite had personally oversaw his making. he gave you a necklace from kay’s or zara’s or something, one of those diamond stores that make those obnoxious commercials around christmas and valentine’s day. it was stunning, this emerald thing that according to the little paper that came with it was called the ‘fairies jewel’.
“cus you’re my fairy girl” he said, a little grin on his face.
the party was held at his friend’s house, older kids with older ideas. you were in a dress while everyone else was in ratty jeans and t-shirts and you felt young and awkward and stupid. he brought you a beer, then another, then another and it was disgusting, like sweat and piss mixed together but everyone else was drinking and you didn’t want to be a kid anymore. it didn’t matter anyway because soon you could barely remember your name.
you found an empty bedroom and it was almost chaotic the way he kissed you, like he wanted to swallow you whole. his hands were everywhere and you had awkward, tipsy fingers, unknowing but willing.
he asked you once, you remember that, he did ask and you did say yes. you remember that it hurt. you remember that half way, someone pushed open the door and he cursed and they slammed it shut. you remember hearing people screaming out a countdown and you closed your eyes and exhaled and it was a new year.
the next morning, it was like someone had broken your skull into a thousand pieces and let a four year old put it back together. he took you out to breakfast and the pancakes and coffee tasted like nothing. you were wearing clothes you found in one of the drawers in the bedroom and they smelled like weed. your hair was tangled and you desperately wanted to shower.
you were silent throughout the trip home and he was too.
“are you ok?” he mumbled. he was scratching the back of his neck, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
you smiled tightly and kissed him, one hand on the door handle. you tasted anxiety on his lips and you knew he tasted the same on yours. you didn’t know where your necklace had gone and you supposed it was lost somewhere inside your dress, collapsed on the bedroom floor.
“i’m fine.”
v.
you disintegrated afterwards, but did you expect any less?
it was quick, sudden, how little you spoke when with him. how little he spoke back. how there were empty silences and hollow holes.
you were on that bridge again, but you were older and colder and you got your wish, fairy girl, because you were not a kid anymore.
“i knew you were going to break my heart”, he said into the early spring air. he wasn’t looking at you, leaning against the railing, his eyes focusing in and out at the cars driving by.
your eyes were dry and there was so much to say and so little to say and you ended up saying nothing.
he drove you home and you didn’t see him for two weeks. one of his friends, that girl who smirked and said you were his new toy, called you once.
“it’s not your fault or anything. it’s just how he deals with his break-ups. it happened to me too. anyway, he’s graduating this year so i’m actually pretty surprised you even lasted this long.”
“but..what now?”
“you keep breathing and cry a little and you get the fuck over it.”
and you did.
ix.
he called you last night. you didn’t get the message yet, it’s still on voicemail. you were playing with your little sister and didn’t hear your phone.
he’s going to say hello. he’s going to say that college changed him, that he’s really happy at nyu , that his professors are brilliant and his classes are incredibly eye-opening. he’ll say he doesn’t like the city, doesn’t like the anonymity. he’s going to laugh a little and your heart will stutter because his laugh is what always got you. he’s going to say that he thought he’d love new york only because everyone’s a stranger but he finally figured out that he like being known, that he likes knowing people, that he likes knowing you. he’s going to ask if he can see you when he visits during winter break. he’s going to say he misses you. he’s going to call you fairy girl. he’s going to be completely sincere. without saying it, he will convey the regret and the desperation and the fact that he really does and always had loved you.
don’t call him back.
