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phantasmic alright now... - Subscribe
time to be honest with myself here, my rejected feeling isn't just from tonight's "later" but "no" that is all too familiar....i feel this way because of all the "let's hang out"s, the "i miss you"s, the "we should catch up"s, and all the other empty phrases that go unfinished. it's not always the thought that counts. intention isn't always good enough. i want things to be said, and done. not said and left alone. is that so much to ask? maybe it is. i try my hardest to do what i say i'm going to do. i guess i just wish people could do the same for me now and again.

yeah this is a lot of silly thought vomit, but maybe it'll allow me to get some sleep if i release this emotional buildup. ha. right. i always bottle it all up. but it never really explodes. more like a pop bottle, i'll fizz over and make a mess, but no real harm done. i need an outlet, something other than this blog. besides, i hardly use it anyway. no point really with no feedback. then again, maybe i don't need the feedback, i tend to sort it all out in my head after a while. would be nice to have someone to speed up the process though. oh well.

and oddly enough, the randomly associated mood is just my personality. the boy tells me often enough how i need to lighten up, have some fun.....but how can i when no one seems to want to have fun with me?
0 Comments
Mood: demure

dreamoway throwing it all away. May 15th, 2008 9:01:14 pm - Subscribe
Need I say I love you
Need I say I care
Need I say that emotions,
Something we dont share
I dont want to be sitting here
Trying to deceive you
Cos you know I know baby
That I dont wanna go.

We cannot live together
We cannot live apart
Thats the situation
Ive known it from the start
Every time that I look at you
I can see the future
Cos you know I know babe
That I dont wanna go.

Throwing it all away
Throwing it all away
Is there nothing that I can say
To make you change your mind
I watch the world go round and round
And see mine turning upside down
Youre throwing it all away.

Now who will light up the darkness
Who will hold your hand
Who will find you the answers
When you dont understand
Why should I have to be the one
Who has to convince you
Cos you know I know baby
That I dont wanna go.

Someday youll be sorry
Someday when youre free
Memories will remind you
That our love was meant to be
Late at night when you call my name
The only sound youll hear
Is the sound of your voice calling
Calling after me.

Just throwing it all away
Throwing it all away
Theres nothing I can say
Were throwing it all away
Yes were throwing it all away...
0 Comments
Mood: heartbroken

dreamoway It's been a while Apr 22nd, 2008 12:38:56 am - Subscribe
Life has changed, drastically i might add.

What's happened? Honestly I don't even know.

It's weird having just about no girlfriends. None, zip. I have like one who i really talk to. I guess i just don't get along with girls. And it's hard to have guy friends, because well it just is. I've lost my best friend, I know it for sure at this point. She's completely different now at this point anyways.

So much for building up relationships and trust. It seems like such a waste now. Now that i've seemed to have lost the most important people in my life. These are the years you look back on. The memories you make in high school.. are not ones i want to remember when I'm older.

I don't want to graduate, but I can't wait to leave. I have no idea what I want to do with my life.. I don't want to go to college i really don't. It just feels like it will be highschool all over again.

More bullshit.
More heartbreak.

Waste, a fucking waste.

I try to get close with others. Then I just pull away. Farther and farther away I go. Off in oblivion.

Take me away.

The empty pages of our scrap book kill me. KILL ME. The memories we wont make, the memories we have made and are now nothing. I fucked up. Because of my stressful life I fucked it up. I'm so sick of fucking shit up. i know i making a bunch of mistakes as the days go by.

Seriously. I've just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life in the past week. And for what? To feel something?

What i would do to feel something.

Take me away
A million miles away from here
Take me away
Find a place for you and me
You're taking me higher
High as I could be
Take me away
Forever you and me
Take me away


Fin.
2 Comments
Mood: desolate

playwright That's another matter, Brandy Alexander Feb 5th, 2008 4:08:25 pm - Subscribe
Love, and that's all.
0 Comments
Mood: O joy.
: O music.

playwright What makes you forgettable Jan 29th, 2008 8:58:02 pm - Subscribe
So yeah, I've thought about you recently.

I'm trying to be more careful with my love. Doling out tiny, measured bits to worthy strangers, shedding some feather-sized pieces to lay in the perfect corners nature makes, and saving the rest for myself. Except

there's someone captured in my photographic brain

that makes me want to free every last bit.

I have the feeling that this sudden rush of happy feeling and artistic energy will be sewn and painted and written into new projects and plans, mapped-out dreams brought to fruition by a sudden, nameless motivation.

All this wishing and waiting, and we were living in the trees all along. I feel so silly for not realizing it sooner, but then, there were so many veils obscuring my vision, so many hands blurring across my heart before.

There's something about 2008.
0 Comments
Mood: optimistic
: Blonde Redhead

phantasmic lost Jan 10th, 2008 2:47:26 am - Subscribe
Sometimes I feel lost. "Don't we all?" you might say. Well, I haven't felt this lost in a loooong time. For one thing, I'm blogging again. Christ.

Do you ever feel like your world is being ripped apart for reasons unknown, perhaps the mere reality that the life you have isn't right and fate is trying to correct itself? That's my life at the moment. It sucks.

Atypical of my OLD blogs, I'm just rambling off my thoughts rather than trying to be poetic about it. I realized awhile ago that I have trouble doing that, it is not something that comes naturally for me like some.

Redirecting my thoughts here....My boyfriend's friend is going military, HUGE impact. Obviously. In addition...the BF is on really good terms with his ex, which makes me nervous because I know he still has feelings for her. In fact he actually admitted that to me a few hours ago. Yes, yes I know he explained it well enough and it's nothing like how I fear it is, but I'm still restless because of it. Just knowing that my "feelings" about things are once again becoming frighteningly accurate (no, it wasn't this event that triggered this thought, but did add to it) is unnerving to say the least.

I had a minor anxiety attack today. Haven't had one in a few months I believe. What fun those are. Not.

Hm. I suppose that's about it for now. About as "in your face" as I'll ever be.

Think I might try to blog more frequently...I feel mildly better.
0 Comments
Mood: wretched

dreamoway My world Nov 4th, 2007 3:15:38 pm - Subscribe
I gave you everything I had to offer.

I was your "world", your "everything".

We touched and became one.

Love at first sight is an understatement.



It feels like I'm dying is an understatement.

I want everything back.

I wish I was never your world.

I want to be my own person again.






When someone says the words, "You're so beautiful" it's an empty, hallow statement. It means nothing coming from anyone but you. You know me inside and out. You know my true beauty on the inside.

It's hard for me to let go of that. It's hard for me to let go of you.
0 Comments
Mood: empty

silentrain Butterflies Sep 20th, 2007 7:48:17 pm - Subscribe
You crush butterfly wings slowly beneath your fingertips the same way you did my heart.

Speckles of light blue and white powder fall from your tainted hands onto the dull surface below our feet, sparkling for but a moment before a ghastly wind that caused a shiver to involuntarily crawl up my spine took them away to a place we couldn't even dream of reaching.

You smile that simple grin that tells me that everything is going to be alright, even though my stomach burns in its very acids and knows that you are wrong.

Still, I nod, my mouth unable to form the words I have practiced over and over again but have yet to say to anyone other than the darkness engulfing my bedside.

"I- I-"

More powder falls as another pair of wings meet their untimely death in your grip. This time, I watch their plummet into an unknown future, wishing that I could catch the wind just as they did, and float away without worrying which way I was going.

My words lose themselves beneath the shrieking of the wind.

"I- I-"

You shrug this one off. It's nothing to you now; this killing of freedom. But that's because you don't know the truth- the severity of what you are doing to me.


But even if you did know, would you continue to crush my wings?


"I-I-"


And so we say goodbye.

1 Comments
Mood: distant
: Goodbye my Almost Lover- A Fine Frenzy

playwright Sorry I Aug 28th, 2007 8:12:42 pm - Subscribe
missed your call.

x

The world is a dangerous place. So many people moving between each other, passing glances and never looking back. So many nameless faces with scraps of sentences attached to their memories, lost among so many others sewn upon the patchwork quilt that is the makeshift file cabinet of my subconscious, stretching out for miles in every direction. Dangerous

and lovely. I have a feeling that my eyes are about to be astounded. Some beautiful, inevitable combination of colors will come to them and it will be the most perfect image that I have ever experienced, because behind it there will also be beauty,

genuity. Those passing glances turned to smiles, your lips moving to speak. Acquaintances made friends.

Things are so much better now.
0 Comments
Mood: Happy
: Islands

playwright Sometimes I'm Aug 27th, 2007 11:43:37 pm - Subscribe
the homeless man splayed drunk across the sidewalk, rambling life lessons in some angry new language, inventing stories as if it might stop someone on the street and hold them there, locked in momentary friendship. Spewing emotional bullshit with eyes wet and black, aglisten with the perfect orange of streetlamp glow, claiming to have reached some immaculate conclusion on the subject, but just full of shit. Just full of it,

and sometimes I walk the dark streets of these neighborhoods alone, sucking in the night air like a last breath and wishing I could solve your life with the simple brush of hair against skin, or simple words that simply float out of my mouth, or a not-empty wallet. Worrying about worrying about things, too many things, two people who can and can't and will and will, will, will.

x



Hello,
little girl lost in halos, traipsing through fields of cinnamon and snow, Christmas tree gardens beginning to grow under your little feet, breathing in childhood memory. How many empty hearts will you follow? How many empty bottles will you swallow? The numbers you collect jangle like keys in your pocket, if only you would take them out and spend them on so many waiting doors. Janitor of burdens, let go of your rusting collections piece by ancient piece, quit your job, flee the country.

x
2 Comments
Mood: Like writing
: Elliott Smith

silentrain Wishing on fading stars... Aug 27th, 2007 9:38:16 pm - Subscribe
The moment my mother returned home from her first trip to Paris, she handed me a necklace.

It was simple and elegant; a black band that held a beautiful silver star at the end of it. And the minute it joined the other two necklaces that rarely ever came off, I decided that it would be my wish necklace.

I figured that, instead of buying a five dollar wish bracelet, this necklace would hold my greatest desires, hopes, and dreams. Its durability would insure that my ultimate wish would take a while to achieve, but eventually, the thread would have to break.


That was over two years ago.


The necklace has grown old with age since then, as now all the silver it once held has faded to the copper it was originally sculpted out of. The thick band that it once had is now nothing more than a thin thread with one chunk of it's former self threatening to dissolve on the left side.

It no longer looks very stunning. In fact, most people probably think that the little star is quite ugly now, and might just pause for an one hundredth of a second to ponder why I decided to wear it in my senior picture.


Today, my wish necklace broke.


But not in the way I expected it to.


The thread didn't snap, the star didn't fall off and get lost.

The strange thing was, as I went to put it back on after a rejuvenating shower, I noticed that the clasp was gone. I freaked out, immediately searching through everything on the ground and by the sink with the speed and skill of a roller-coaster heading into the final loop.

But all my searching was to no prevail.
The little clasp must had fallen down the drain, or embedded itself deep in a corner, snickering at my futile attempts.


After a while, I gave up, placing the now unwearable necklace up on my bulletin board so it would never get lost.

It hit me then what this all meant.

My wish necklace was broken.

Which meant, just like the bracelet of the same name, my greatest wish was going to come true.


Yes, I did smile at the innocent thought, even though reality was screaming at me for believing in something so childish.


But I simply let out a sigh, touched the now empty space between my two other necklaces where the star had once laid and went on with my life.


Did my wish come true, you ask?


Well, we'll see.
0 Comments
Mood: cautious
: Mr. Blue- Catherine Feeny

onlyway reading response Aug 21st, 2007 2:59:55 pm - Subscribe

RP #1 – Malcolm X

Whoever said prison wasn’t a blessing for Malcolm X should rethink that. This man fought for peace, fought for racial justice, and he learned more in prison than he did from fighting. In prison, he discovered the power of words that he never would have known had he skipped that prison era in his life. It all started with a dictionary; it seems insane, but a dictionary led Malcolm X to a love of reading. I started reading when I was three, and I couldn’t imagine waiting any longer to begin my obsession with books. Like Malcolm X found out, reading opens a completely different world, one in which you can escape to when life becomes too intense. Malcolm X even said that he forgot about being imprisoned whenever he had a series of words to drag his eyes across. There have been many occasions in my life where I just wanted to close my eyes and disappear for a bit. I couldn’t do that, though, so I turned to reading and everything in my life seemed well again. If Malcolm X were alive, I’d let him known that I share his belief in the power of reading.
0 Comments
Mood: flabbergasted

silentrain Chipping away white paint. Aug 12th, 2007 2:25:38 am - Subscribe
Today I realized that I had never looked at the ceiling of my parent's bathroom.

It was grimy, I decided after a moment, finding that not one better word came to my fried mind. In one corner it was significantly darker than the rest of the already off-white speckled ceiling before it exploded in random sparkles all around the small, enclosed area. A coffee-like stain splashed in ripples over the mirror that had miraculously survived crashing into the porcelain sink- and succeeded in breaking the sink in two.

I wondered for a moment if one of my parental units had stripped the ceiling bare without my knowledge, and what I was looking at was merely the remains of a once fantastically painted part of my house I had never discovered.

Again, I thought of the strange patterns as some kind of story.

But this one, I couldn't figure out the ending to... or if there even was one- or a beginning, for that matter.

I still don't really know what possessed me to look up at the ceiling of all things tonight, and more so why I pondered over it for so long. The only logical reason embedded in my brain is that for such a period of time, I had always been looking down at my feet, or simply straight ahead.



An article shone on my computer, talking about how scientists were working on a drug... some sort of procedure that would allow humans to get rid of memories they didn't want.

I stood there for a moment, not being able to breathe; much like the reaction I got after watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Only this time, the futuristic procedure was becoming a reality.

I wondered if those scientists had ever watched that movie and saw what could occur when one fools with the mind. I figured not.

When life was breathed back into me, I felt angry.

Here we were, stuck in the twenty-first century, and scientists were more worried about erasing memories than finding ways to stop the diseases that cause fragments of the mind to disappear forever.

So, what would you rather have?
The ability to erase every slightly bad memory that could teach you a lesson?

Or the ability to stop your memories from erasing themselves without your consent before you find yourself unable to even remember your lover's name?



Every time I opened my computer, I used to find a random desktop picture there, blaring something amusing.

Until I switched off the randomosity factor.

Now every time I open up my computer, I see the words 'Let Go!' in bold white lettering above a dead dandelion.


And tonight, I looked up.



Change.
0 Comments
Mood: lackadaisical
: The Golden Exit- The Good Life

playwright Sweetened with pure cane sugar Jul 28th, 2007 6:02:42 pm - Subscribe
Had I known you were going to holocaust me in a matter of minutes I would have finished that abandoned portrait of our love and filled in all of those tiny spaces with black paint. Instead I slowly turned in that trough of old feeling, thinking, this is leading to me walking off of the edge of a cliff.

When I was three years old, and this might have been a dream, my parents took me to a beautiful park and we hiked across the top of a waterfall. We looked down from a tiny perch of jutting rock and I was so afraid to die, but they promised not to let me fall, and I trusted them with my life.

Once in high school I burned a wide line of purple on my left arm with an iron. I distinctly recall not reacting fast enough, that moment when I knew I was stupidly causing myself injury, but was unable to immediately stop the cause due to lazy gross motor skills. Today I reacted far quicker, though my wound looks somewhat dire. It fascinates me how I manage to cover myself in angry bruises and puffy red scratches. For every scab or sunken purple mark that gradually fades to a more acceptable color of skin, a new dent appears somewhere. My body could tell stories.

You're head over heels, obsessed. I can't take you on, I can't add you to a list of names, I don't want you on my plate, I am lonely, leave me alone. Your company was beautiful until you ruined it, and now I just want to shut you out of all my windows and doors and sleep you away with medicine. Come back to the person that you were.

I felt something pure. It stamped its feet on my chest with such volume and shook me, shook me up all frightened and furious and filled my head with fire. And it was ugly, and it was mad, and when it left I felt brutally cleansed or robbed as if that thing which shouted such vulgar poetry inside me had erased a memory, scrubbed some written-upon part of me clean, and the remaining impossibility just lingered like a cloud of ash over the world, stinging my eyes with realization and the inevitable misery that follows.

You never showed me that poem that you wrote.
0 Comments
Mood: Black cherry and vicious welts
: Air conditioner

playwright Strawberry water Jul 20th, 2007 6:11:47 pm - Subscribe
Cars flash by, peeking in through the windows with childlike, wildflower-like eyes. Sugar pours down my throat. My pink brain is coated with laughter soft like an electric blanket, with hazy field people and cold, spilled water.

I don't wanna live through winter. I can't stand to see everything ending.

Summer covers the water under the bridge in algae. The remnants of life show their bones. A park bench, chairs, a construction sign. Angels walk by and say their hellos. They stare at me, dangling my legs over the edge, sucking on a cigarette, staring down from the middle of nowhere, my favorite place in the universe. Knowing I wasn't going to die. I decided it was a stupid idea.

The world collapses and rebuilds itself around me. I can do nothing but watch.
0 Comments
Mood: Broken-bottled
: Black Moth Super Rainbow

playwright Short stories Jul 12th, 2007 6:16:47 pm - Subscribe
Where did the storm go? Now, the sky looks kinda blue.

We can't decide what kind of weather we want. It's too hot in the attic, but she can't sleep with the fan on. I can't stop putting things in my mouth; I need something to fill it. I'm singing because it's too silent. Everyone is sleeping, or reading books.
0 Comments
Mood: Rampant
: Quiet

dreamoway So it continues. Jul 12th, 2007 12:22:05 pm - Subscribe
Yessssssss, life is still amazingly great.

Roger Waters today, which will be amazingly great as well.

Blog fin.

You've changed my life already.
1 Comments
Mood: wonderful

playwright Hah! Jul 12th, 2007 12:05:59 am - Subscribe
I wrote today.
I'm writing.
I can write.
0 Comments
Mood: Oh, television. Oh, beauty, oh, nature.
: Ambientnoise

playwright It's getting light outside, and things are happening inside of my head Jun 28th, 2007 5:24:13 am - Subscribe
I've been writing poems. It's something new, because it's been so long.

I've finally reached back into something that I used to be, to pull out some fragments of a personality. I stumbled down so many steps, blinded by my silly doubts and tripped over that hidden heart, a place filled with words that I used to know. I found an old path that I loved to follow, a book stashed between walls that details a history most complex and enchanting. To read it is not to relive past moments, but to taste a familiar taste, only now I am able to appreciate the depth and richness of its flavor.

A new slant of light hits our subject. Or subjects. I suppose that would be more accurate. We've boarded up this window and created another with our fists, you, and you, and you, and so many yous. And I. It's an army of battling points of view, arguing over each other, shouting and then whispering, creating hymns of scattered harmonies that rise and fall and then suddenly crash, darkening into discordance, shaking my brain with war.

These eyes are just opened. The world is fresh and bright and clean and it stabs my pupils like sharp knuckles. But to look away is to fail, for it begs to be described and understood. Alone, it is only what it is, and cannot make itself what it yearns to be.

Will I feel this way forever, wanting this so completely, feeling right with the world, though my head aches from such discovery? No, but there is something reassuring in this knowledge. Perhaps its brevity makes it all the more valuable to experience. I know it will slowly vanish, and I will look on, wondering, as it slips into the folds of lost time, leaving only tiny traces of its existence in my mind. I don't mind.
1 Comments
Mood: Absolutely perfect

playwright Who knows why Jun 25th, 2007 8:15:27 pm - Subscribe
They say, It must be a brilliant match; I think of striking the match and the immediate crackle of its lighting, the burst of light before it continues to burn. Is that us?

I'd like to write poems and poems, I'd like to carve into my walls so many words that they run over each other and begin to blend together until it's just nonsense, so many sentences running together into a great illogical synthesis, and it will mean nothing, because it will mean everything at the same time, twenty-nine contradictions existing in perfect harmony, or disharmony, depending on how you will decide to read it.

I think it's funny how you just fall short, by a mere number; just, just. It's another almost added to a list of almosts that stretches on forever into history.

I'm falling off the edge. I'm moving toward a revolution, a great sequence of losses and gains. I'm headed toward the Sun, I'll burn up before I get there. I'll run out before I've run the whole way to the other side of the world. I'll run out of steam. But I will go, and it's the going that matters, that's really the point of the thing. Do you see?

It doesn't matter. Everything has become forgettable. But I'm still teetering, here. Still waiting for an answer to escape your open lips, unexpected, filled with promise.
0 Comments
Mood: pissed
: Red Hot Chili Peppers