|
|
Thursday, May 8th, 2008
| |
9:34 pm - YOU GOT LOOKS THAT KILL BUT YOU ALSO GOT GILLS
|

theinternet
|
Standing by the punch bowl. Drinking full cups, spiked. Chewing on a mass of Fruit Stripes gum. You smile, I put a tattoo on your tongue.
Her dress is beautiful, The dance is amazing, We're doing our own boogey, getting down, doing all that totally rad shit.
The only problem, I just made every thing up.
Instead, reality is a bitter place. There's no punch bowl, and if there was some punch, It'd best be laid upon my face.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| |
3:03 pm - HOSTILE BLURTY TAKEOVER
|

theinternet
|
Don't retreat boy, you're acting like a silly little bitch. Your stomach is a mess, the festive sickness leads with blistering quickness. You aren't sure, you aren't sure. You'll never know, an empty home. Because you cannot stand to live alone.
And perhaps the distance was a blessing, but you love your love in ziplock bags to save the freshness, but ultimately altering the taste. In the end this is a lesson in lessening. A vision of division, can't hold water if you're not treading on some toes. But loneliness is a noose. And it's binding. And so we struggle, and we compromise, and that's why our insecurities are hanging loose.
And I guess, that's why people do this all their lives, not everyone can have clarity. not everyone can survive. I thought I could bring you old with me. Another late night, night lit, sunday drive.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, May 7th, 2008
| |
9:24 pm - GIVE ME THIS FRONT PAGE
|

theinternet
|
she's such a mystery she must've majored in incognito, but let's not shake knees until the days glow. the morning shakes with an inebriated light, and I do the do until the do don't fight. but we're such fucking monkeys the way we gather and call. The morning after afternoon headache, spitting out sentences we don't recall. Split back like scissor kicking sisters taking sinister sides. The splitting of the lines, into a critical divide. This is what it is it is us versus you.
Don't be so stale. My friend, Don't be so victimized. And it won't be so much pressure to allow the engagers to atomize.
he's such a leper you'd think his hands would keep to themselves, wrapped in ribbon cloths, can't touch another woman even if the victims sought. spit spaced sentences as if the lines were bought he lies in lanes catching the balls trying to fall to the gutter that don't want to be caught. He doesn't love anyone and certainly doesn't love himself, the we say that he lays just to gather his thoughts. But its a leap of faith to gather the fields that've been razed the children whose minds have been raped the futile, fetal patterns that have been totally, and ethereally ingrained. Had a very pleasant childhood, and still hate absolutely everything about self.
Don't be so stale. My boy, You have so much to live for, But lets engage all types of irritators to allow these kids to Go here forth.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, May 6th, 2008
| |
10:55 am - ME AND JOEY A ALWAYS BE SWEATIN THE FLYEST HONEYS
|

theinternet
|
If these are our happy days, then call me Richie Cunningham's older brother.
Call it college, call it writers block, but I start the flame, then flicker into the background from whence I came.
And it is a glory less job.
This is vicious the quickness in which things change, and its liquid the motions that we swim in. The fishes that we hook and live with. The emptiness embodied in all our kitchens.
But none more empty than here. But none more vacuous and filled with self-deprecating sorrow.
None with dreams of dual magnums on Zanzibar, right to the bottom of his jaw. None with more debilitating, crushing, empty streams of thought. Take an eternity of bad luck to never have to see a mirror or a photo again.
This means war, and war means war means more and more of mortars and more than you intended to see dead. But war claims victims and victims with their diction on death and death brings sorrow but im sorry that the candor of tomorrow is strung out like the california condor and I want nothing more than to be happy where I stand.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Thursday, May 1st, 2008
| |
1:54 am - DOES THE WAY I SMELL REMIND YOU OF YOU?
|

theinternet
|
I swore the eye sore she swore she was was nothing but a figment of her imagination. but she swore like we warred like I took her self-confidence and hung it out to dry the day before. --but now she's all grown up, and I can't keep up.
They're some tough rocks, bub. I'll hit the bricks, kid. Before I get creamed.
She swears that she cares what she wears -- she wants her little droopy drawers. and I stare, and imagine I was there trying to shed the very being that is me. The more she sweats the more she lets herself feel alive. And the more she feels alive, the less I want to be.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, April 29th, 2008
| |
2:18 pm - MONTELL THE PIPE ROBERTS
|

theinternet
|
well, we could call it bad luck or maybe we can call it bad timing still the questions festering of unenviable pestering is why someone thought it was fine to turn a city street into a firing line.
a knucklehead, pill popping, inconspicuous leads to ridiculous arguments leads to a full clip spent leads to three injured and one near dead.
We'll hold a prayer vigil at the church dear lord let the insides that are mangled start to function, let the ricochet be undone and our deliverance delayed because our souls bunching. Let's pretend a bat-signal esque stream of prayers were to reach the sky, would that be enough to repair the internal damage to prevent a pour soul from his right to die?
Well, it's remarkable how these streets become so stark cold, how some judgment is so off the keel that it allows such arrogance. Did you really think, really think there would be no consequences for this?
For all of you jackasses who seem intent to shoot to kill over a woman. I hope to god their vagina's secrete dollar bills. You're going to need it. Or they're just not worth it.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| |
2:36 am
|

dancingforyou
|
You say you want to change my mind, So we sit in coffee shops in our free time. You drink your coffee and I sit by your side safely- You smile my way and you’ve already begun to change me. I sip your coffee every now and again, But it’s not yet to my liking. You say you want to change my mind So we drive in your truck just to sit side by side. You smile my way, and it’s just the beginning of this. Give me that latte and sit by my side- You’re changing my mind one sip at a time.
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Monday, April 28th, 2008
| |
12:11 am - JAMES MICHAEL-DOUGLAS
|

theinternet
|
all this and nothing all this and once maybe for all. we can get the dirt devil and do something about this dust cloud in my head, a black and decker with a past that's checkered. what do you feel about the decor of these rooms? the tornado swings by and busts the doors off their hinges. the window pane rattles as the shutters shudder when the feel me cringing.
this isnt a house, it certainly isnt a home and none of us want to live here anymore.
its a wash. its a cracked windshield the way this mind works I cant explain high wire hard ware with a hay wire hard stare a total block in the front of my brain focus focus focus focus focus focus focus on the pain. focus on a paragraph, sentence structure creativity and I'm to blame.
my weaknesses all exposed half way there like knee high panty hose. and its inexplicable how the details now are on the internet for download.
this isn't a house, it certainly isn't a home and you know what they say about doing what you do when in rome.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Sunday, April 27th, 2008
| |
12:02 pm - KATE MOISTFEE-EVANS
|

theinternet
|
the bumps in the road feel like hand grenades going off underneath the dodge. so I guess this is how it feels to be car bombed. bombarded and car bombed its jameson and baileys to barely break and then sparks some.
everything happens for a reason? is that the cureall excuse we're still using? it starts with a spark and a door unlocked, and there goes the TVs the VCRs and the Analog Clocks. Welcome to the 90s, where a soul will rest in a bed unkept trying to figure out memories that make no sense.
the grind of the day slugs at my face. a team by team basis on hide and go sneak. the tabacco on my breath makes me cringe, I can just feel the stink. and you'd look stunning if we could rewind said analog clocks.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, April 23rd, 2008
| |
11:27 pm
|

dishragfaces
|
We walked through the park down by Red Bug's Lake Broke a little sweat dragging out these things All we're carrying we never found it's place Or the way to make a space to settle down and live We spread out that day spread out on a bench Got ourselves a tan Now our hands are red The closer we get the sooner I forget Most things come along as this when your not ready yet Now I can't work straight can't cross off a thing couldn't make a single call your name's not on the list Want this shift to end cause you are coming in waiting for your strawberry hair to swing right past at four Now I'm getting home sprawled out on my bed Got a few more scabs to peel A few skin cells to mend Wished sooner could I see how bad you were for me But I am set to self destruct I've been programmed for this
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Saturday, April 19th, 2008
| |
11:42 am - I AM A CRYBABY
|

theinternet
|
woke up this morning, nothing tasted good. The pizza and the soda, although not the most nutritious were unbelievably hard to eat.
guilt trips et cetera just want to escape all of this. writing letters of apology to all who care. then trying real hard to get the hell out of here.
no acts of symbolism no embedded metaphors just a sign draped over my shoulders says: help me, help me please.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Thursday, April 17th, 2008
| |
2:47 pm - THE JOE FORTUNA BASEBALL LEAGUE ALL-STARS
|

theinternet
|
It's been a wacky year, she says as she's grooming her hair. short sighted -- a Cyclops cut up time like a stop watch, swilling on mixed drinks and beer.
No, It's been a wacky life, I say without looking up twice consistency’s lack of-- and disproportionate man love drinking completely for spite.
It's been long since the last check point I saved A collage of fading memories Every segment labeled -- "My Salad Days"
A baseball player becomes a mother, A dancer falls in love with another dancer, There's no love in Ohio, A surfer too becomes a mother, Two sluts remain sluts, Basketballs turn into beer pong balls, And some are too smart for themselves.
Meanwhile, some of us grow up. And others have much left to do. Some of us find lovers, others are misguided youth.
And I swear, That's how we ended up here.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, April 15th, 2008
| |
12:58 am - LITTLE ASS TITLE? [PHILADELPHIA DAYGLOW]
|

theinternet
|
if these night terrors dont stop soon the nightmares might take their hands and rub out all warning labels for those who are running their hardest to make a plan b escape plan.
this is a city where the day goes bright and the day glo might be rubbed off the barrel of an airsoft heckler and kotch. and the bullets sprayed will create an absent page in the two-thousand and eight class yearbook frame.
what have we done, heres my hello kitty ak-47 brapp brapp brapp onomatopoeia. these prose and pages won't stand a look for a M-16 with a hologram George W. Bush.
killadelphia, how does your garden grow. an airbrushed nightmare with some character from Nintendo 64.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Monday, April 14th, 2008
| |
10:04 pm
|

csi_fanatic
|
My life is spiralling downward Into a black abyss But the worse thing is that no one seems to notice
I scream and scream and scream But no one hears me screaming No one sees that I'm hurt No one knows I'm dying
I'm slowly withering away Turning into a mindless wraith Not knowing, not caring that the world moves on Because I'm stuck in a dark bubble A bubble created to protect me From a world that I want to be a part of
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| |
1:51 am - TURNING THE ROADS INTO GLASS
|

theinternet
|
shrinking shrunken spent. drinking way too much, forgot to pay the rent.
counting sheep with a shotgun the recoil is so vicious somewhere along the line this stopped being fun. And It's restless, this distress the kids will kill. It's fun, they say life is a video game. It's fun I think, maybe for a minute until the cops come.
drinking drunken dent. thinking way too much forgot to pay respects.
dying to feel hardly, the recoil is so vicious somewhere along the line I forgot about being alive. Here comes the mistress, her t-shirt's wetness will spill. It's fun I think, till I count my inhibitions. It's fun maybe for a minute until the cloud of confidence turns into a bubble and crushes everything in it.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, April 12th, 2008
| |
7:09 pm - falling
|

octofetus
|
Effortlessly one fell Quietly slipping into the madness The familiarity of my own diseased being Don't underestimate the flawless design of the hole The brilliant engineering you can always be swallowed up by No matter how much you've dragged yourself out That ineffectual way your fingers sink into all that you hate so much because it's such a big part of you Overwhelmed as everything crumbles Hands pressed against the cracks Too little, too late Watching it all splinter Mourning it all Questioning it all Why am I struggling to repeat all of this
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| |
6:00 pm - TYLENOL 3
|

theinternet
|
on some witch doctor shit his knee bone connected to his leg bone his head bone connected to his dick bone
don't say no. don't ever say no.
she is so fucked up, speaking in jibberish languages. push pin skin, a voodoo doll face cushion for such release. don't give up, just keep trying.
just this once won't hurt.
don't say no. don't ever say no.
he feels so fleeting this way, his emotions insulting different area codes, his emotions jet lagging in foreign time zones.
she is so fucked up, eyes rolled back and chest so bare, this is a bad movie, or a teenage mockumentary. cushion your head for this release. we're not sorry.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Thursday, April 10th, 2008
| |
9:15 pm
|

liine
|
She: "Am I beautifull? " He: "No, you're not." She: "Will you always stay by my side? " He: "No, I will not." She: "Will you miss me when you go? " He: "No, I will not." She: "Will you love me with your heart?" He: "No, I will not."
[He takes her hand and says] "You aren't beautiful, you are luscious." "I will not stay forever by your side, I'll stay forever more." "I will not miss you when I go, I will die." "I will not love you with my heart, I'll love you with all I have."
current mood: Madlyy in lové
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, April 8th, 2008
| |
1:52 am - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VNCeaxADws&feature=related
|

theinternet
|
You have got to be kidding me. I rolled bladed all the way back to 1992 just to see you.
You're going to tell me this is all for nothing? Brace a smile and say, get on with your life?
You'd pat me on the head, and bounce me on your knee. You'd bat your cane against the steps to help teach me. Look through your glossy, broken eyes, tell me life’s worth living.
Now I've on my laser lemon shoe laces and cherry car red skates and made my way back totally aware, and you're going to tell me. Kid, when you die, you're not going anywhere.
You said something different, Trying to see me through Kaleidoscope vision. The last few brain aneurysms have really changed you, and I'm not sure I know what to say.
You fought the good fight, for all of those years, and you don't know why. I looked at the battle with contempt. I guess I was the blind one.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Monday, April 7th, 2008
| |
11:18 pm
|

itspretty_scary
|
Her whole life was raining down but her smile was sunshine through the clouds, and I knew never harder would I fall.
Even if somehow she couldn't stay and all the clouds had blown away, I knew I was lucky they had rolled in at all.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
|
|
|