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Password: are my canvas. (fshionfightpaus) wrote,
@ 2003-11-20 00:33:00
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    wordswordswords.. boredom 'my head is a carousel of pictures'
    im bored..

    beauty is mesmerizing.
    these words are all i have to live for.
    i grip the sunset and hold on for dear life..
    the rolling winds somtimes tear me down..
    but my eyes leak blue paint
    and with it i decorate this sadness
    this bittersweet twilight..
    this flash of life.
    one big moment
    its all we have.

    in a house, by myself, i hear the ice start to melt and watch the rooftops weep for sunlight. and i know what must change. fuck my face. fuck my name. they are brief and false advertisements for a soul i dont have. something true i have lacked and spent my whole life trying to make up for. but i found in a song and in the people i love. they will lift me up out of the darkness.

    there has been a great deal of discussion, yes, about the properties of man. animal or angel? you were carved from bone but your heart, it's just sand. and the wind is going to scatter it and cover everything with love. so if it makes you happy, then keep kneeling, mama, but i am standing up.
    im gonna follow the road and let the scenery sweeping by easily enter my body. ill send you all this message in code, underground, over mountains, through forests and deserts and cities. all across electric wire, its a baited line. the hook is in deep, boys, there is no more time. so you can struggle in the water and be too stubborn to die or you could just let go and be lifted to the sky.

    i need some meaning i can memorize. the kind i have always seems to slip my mind.
    you write such pretty words. but life is no storybook. love is an excuse to get hurt and to hurt.
    do you like to hurt.
    i do. i do.
    then hurt me.

    i have a friend; he is mostly made of pain. he wakes up, drives to work, and then straight back home agein. he once cut one of my nightmares out of paper. i thought it was beautiful, i put it on a record cover. and i tried to tell him that he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent. and he said, "thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me. your eyes are poor. you are blind. you see, no beauty could have come from me. i am a waste of breathe, of space, of time."
    so, i have been hanging out down by the train's depot. no, i dont ride. i just sit and watch the people there. they remind me of wind up cars in motion. the way the spin and turn and jokey for positions. and i want to scream out that it all is nonsense. and that their lives are just one track and cant they see how it is pointless? but just then, my knees give under me. my head feels weak and, suddenly, it is clear to see that it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity. as i hide behind these books i read, while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal idiology that no one can hope to achieve. nad i am never real; it is just a sketch of me. and everything i have made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
    sometimes i park my car down by the cathedral, where the floodlights point up at the steeples. choir practice is filling up with people. i hear the sound escaping as an echo. sloping off the ceiling at an angle. when the voices blend they sound like angels. i hope there is still some room left in the middle. but when i lift my voice up now to reach them. the range is too high, way up in heaven. so i hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my show and start walking off. and try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent god and i have no faith but it is all i want, to be loved and believe in my soul.

    now im staring at the sun, waiting for it to explode. because a day is gonna come, dont know when but it will come and then we will finally know the way out of here. and i will throw away this wrinkled map and my chart of stars and compass, cracked. and ill climb that tree all wet with sap to avoid the hungry beasts below. ill cut my lovers tongue and sing of a graveyard gray and a garden green and then we wont have to worry no more. no we wont ever worry again about how this song or story ends, about how this song and story will end.

    so now, i try to keep up, i have been exchanging my currency. while a million objects pass through my periphery. so now i am rubbing my eyes because they are starting to bother me. i have been staring too long at the screen. but where was it when i first heard that sweet sound of humility? it came to my ears in the god damned loveliest melody. how grateful i was then to be part of the mystery, to love and to be loved. lets just hope that is enough.

    nothing gets crossed out.

    today i went to school, played w/tj, hung w/matt, went to best buy, the mall, walmart, goodwill, and thats it i think w/nick. bought a cd (which i havent done in forever), a skirt, 3 braclets, and a make up bag. felt bad about spending money but oh well. people just need to keep me away from the mall.

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