Posts tagged myspace would know
Posts tagged myspace would know
… and recognize the subtle victories when they happen.”
She quit smoking cigarettes with balloon art. Said every time she got the urge she’d create something new. Crowding the playgrounds with fun hats and colorful animals instead of second hand smoke. Filling the air with laughter and smiles instead of over four thousand chemical pollutants.
Here’s to you! Speaking of music and of my hearts … the one that pumps my blood and the one I’d shed it for. Whenever you need someone to help you open up that door … I mean, I got it written on my skin. And sometimes it’s the only thing that helps me remember to breathe out again. I love you and I all ways will.
Clumsy feet and wandering eyes with a head focused on the clouds, not in them (as some would have it). Bumping into poles and tripping on all the cracks is the way to walk the path to my heart. Stumble over yourself because you cant stop observing. Appreciate the journey as much as the destination. This IS the universe: never a dull moment.
Note the faces, note the places, are we, as humans, happy where we be? Always shopping around for products when something like a hug is all we need. Note the stoplights and the trees, which do you respond more to? Has the traffic and the asphalt replaced nature for you? Note the cigarette butts and the birds, the overall lack of words we have to share. Note these robot lives, tell me, do you care? Note the smog preventing stars from shining, note the fog rolling over hills and crying is my response to both. Note each advertisement and each sign, dead symbols that could never intertwine with what I am or represent. Note the way the light from the sun gets bent, around concrete and skyscrapers. Follow the trail of papers and plastics we leave behind. Note the fractals, the falling leaves, the smiles of our kind. Note the clouds at sunset, the moon in its rise, note the puddle of oil reflecting it to your eyes. Note something, note something, note something.
Oh, just stab me in the chest. I’d say you really know the way to a woman’s heart.
Don’t waste your time on us, we’ve doomed ourselves and we fucking love it. Don’t question the reasons for capitalism anymore—everything humans have ever created was only a distraction anyway. In fact, don’t question anything and don’t blame anyone. Trace it back to the roots, we’ve been fucked since the beginning … each man for his own circle.
Where are my fellow humans who have noticed the circles? Everyone’s always talking about squares …
I’d close my eyes if it didn’t bring me that much closer to everything I’m trying to escape. I’d open my eyes if it didn’t bring me that much closer to everything I’m trying to escape. You don’t understand . . . if I push myself away I’m only that much closer. You don’t understand … it’ll never be alright. You’ve revealed to me that it’ll never be alright.
I feel enough to kill us both. I am almost dead. I am almost alive. I’m still waiting. One day I could really be surprised. I hope it knocks me off of my feet. And into my grave. I hope it knocks me right off my feet and into this grave I’ve dug for myself.
The words are thicker than ever, not sharper, just thicker. And a dull blade hurts more when the forces trying to push it through remain the same.
Can’t face what I’ve become … deface what I used to be … facilitate my movement into the future which gets harder with each breath. I think about it and try to forget; it’s not what I lack, but what I can’t get (out of my head).
Can’t keep a steady job. A straight face. I can tie a perfect bow in lace, but that’s not what life’s about anymore. And more and more there is this filthy film between my eyes and the beauty of the earth. More and more the smog takes over the clouds and what used to take my breath away will do so now, literally.
Everything I touch is dead.
Like I knew it would disappear
before I even held it.
The reason for all these blankets
is that underneath them
I am nothing.
The reason for this heap of blankets
is that even ghosts
This morning I woke up a stranger.
This morning I woke up next to someone
and I sensed they sensed I was a stranger.
How far is too far gone?
I want to touch you.
But can you even feel yourself?
I want to touch you.
But I can’t even feel myself.
You woke up and I was gone.
I woke up and I was gone
and you were gone.
And I knew exactly where we were.
Like I knew I would disappear
before I even showed you.
I always do.
And isn’t every touch I try to place upon someone’s flesh just another failed attempt to claw at the inside, anyway? To break apart the frame? Me just mixing up my physical desires with my intellectual/spiritual/mental desires? Like I keep thinking I can make love to the part of you that spawns the art and words. Like my fingers keep thinking they’ll eventually hit a ridge of brain when they caress the ridges of your bones. My third eye thinks you’re beautiful, but I keep trying to satisfy it with the first two.
I’m just science and math. Some physiology and geometry, perhaps? I’m just a small part of a big web. The number five is my contribution. I hope you like it when I figure out how to give it to you. The moon is my master and water is just life. And I’m in it deep. Drowning or swimming or both, I’m in it deep. I’m addicted. And maybe every addiction is just a sure way out. At the beginning of the chaos, addiction was just making sure there was a plot at the end. That it wasn’t as endless and infinite as your mind can’t even fully comprehend.
I spun my body around in a few circles just for the irony. We can always use more circles, right? I must be lost. I must be looking for something that is lost. I can’t tell from this distance. I folded so well at points A and B, like perfect origami. Point C posed a threat. Always a conflict. Always counteracting. It was just too much square in this circle. You must know. You probably played with the toys as a child … some ways won’t fit.
All this swarming around my mind and I can’t take it. (To those that concern themselves): sorry for knocking down the hive. I was going to make you a new one, but I realized that the problem is with myself. I don’t need to make you a new one, I just need to learn how to exist without knocking them down. And, hey, you, I wanted to tell you fuck you. But I yelled it at myself. I bet you want to tell me fuck you, too. But I bet you’re yelling it at yourself.
There is so much. There is too much. I am not doing enough about it.
Spin, spin, spin, spin, spin … weeeeeeeeeeeeeee … I wonder what this design looks like from farther away. All these circles spun around circles. Intricate, detailed … a meticulate mess. And there is sense in every bit of it! Each part can be followed to the origin. I recognize it all, each problem, each cycle, each solution … and I allow it’s existence still. Is the chaos of my life no more than a physical manifestation of my sick fetishes with patterns and irony … details and layers … interconnected chains of events? Do I so love the shadows in the physical world that I’ve allowed myself to cast a giant one over my mental world? This is no more than another circle.
It’s so beautiful now … the design inandofitself. But there is no basis of life in it.
Those long winding roads. Those hysterical tears. I left a trail of piss and a longer trail of skin. Oh, the way it shed like a snake in that crisp snow. Five wrong turns, and we missed sunset over the mountains. I thought the world was over. Five wrong turns, but we would’ve missed the coyote.
And the coyote saved my life. In that moment I became myself.
Africa was in the sky. Tales of far away lands and farther away hearts. We’re so young, can’t you tell? Listen how we speak, though … with our external nervous systems … with our broken hearts and empty glue bottles … what are we building ourselves around what’s been built? Empires to the sun. No, no, I mean empires that don’t hide the sun. Let’s try again without corrupting ourselves. Let’s wake up to the most amazing world and keep it that way.
Everything is always polar. But only half of the time.
We are so in balance that it causes us to be out of balance.
One man’s heartbeat is another man’s time bomb.
I need trees and nature like some people honestly think they need malls and stop lights.
I have an extra vertebrae and exclude myself from the human race. But I cannot excuse myself from it. I have participated in its destructive habits and cycles. I have fed the monster and turned the gears. I have produced more waste than anything else. My actions have at times disgraced humanity. I have at times supported the thing I was condemning in others. Therefore, I am no different.
To change the world we must first change ourselves. To change ourselves we must first change the world we feed directly off of. So which comes first? Oh, brother! I see it so clearly. A chicken. An egg. Another stupid invention like Styrofoam. Couldn’t we have kept it to ourselves?
We’re fucked and helpless, but I admire your hope.
The moon still hangs slightly out of sight. She makes me want to die sometimes. The pain of seeing everything from such a distance. Eyes so tired from the view, heart so worn out from not being able to touch anything. Everyone sees only one side, so why even bother? If they could see it all it would kill them anyway.
This is like one of my favorite bits of writing ever. My good friend Jess wrote this as a comment to my blog (demons are chasing my demons) circa June 2005 when she was 15 and I was 18:
I’ve spent so many years running i forgot how to walk. Just the other day i walked…for the first time in years, i cried when i was walking and laughed when i was walking, but i enjoyed it all the same. I walked until the sky turned black, then continued ‘til it turned orange, then a nice blue color. I walked and walked. When i stopped walking, i noticed how beautiful things were when i was walking, how i could watch them pass and dream about them all in the same breath, and nothing was blurred. I wanted to keep on walking but i was tired. I was afraid if i were to go to sleep, I’d forget once again how to walk, and i did. I woke up and ran to the phone. Then i cried and ran out the door. Then i ran down the road and got hit by a car. Now i’m in heaven walking around. My heaven is a nice place to visit. Maybe you should walk up here someday. I have a nice swing set we could walk to, and swing on. Then we could walk and get some ice cream. Sometimes though, i wish i could have learned how to walk earlier, so i could have walked with people like you. Bonnie blue. Don’t be sad.