Practice Erasing Yourself, So You 'll Know What It Will Feel Like

Sometimes my heart jumps in front of the train wreck that is my head and answers for it... Forgetting of course, that it will bear the results of its rashness in the small hours of the morning, when all you have is a mickey and fifteen ways to swallow it so that it burns everything away.

Asleep at the wheel (just to run myself over.) From their mouths the words feel like car-wrecks. My insecurity is my seatbelt, choking me alive.

Even the weather stood me up. A whiteless Christmas is the cruelest kind of punishment for kids like me. At least I packed the moon. Tonight I'm going to give my tired eyes a break and let my heartbeat sing them to sleep.

IfIHaveToWalkImGoingJustTheSame

I Don't Know Karate But I Know Karayzeee!

Down to the wire. It's the way I'm living. I'll be home for Christmas, but more in the showing-up-late-for-registration kind of way. Open roads and my mutt beside me. 15 hours to nowhere. So I am coming to see you, it's what is right to do and I am done fighting it. Slip on your best smile. That one that would make a polygraph believe you. Because I want you to want me there and I want to believe it.

I'm shipping my heart to Florida for the holidays. We've made plans to meet back up in New York City. 49th and Broadway. Don't be late. And don't forget those eyes.

This has been the year of the lull. Next year will be written about us. Let's storyboard our future and pen the first piece of literature that has no antagonist, villain, or crusher of dreams. Let's leave out the drama, heartbreak, and conflict. A story that only you and I would care to read. Let's lock ourselves between pages and retire on a bookshelf. You and me forever.

ItsHappening

My dog is sporting a new scarf that makes him look very Ivy League. I'm just writing on papers never read, rolling down the windows of hope only to see the glass fog.

"Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum." - Vincent Van Gogh... in a letter to his brother.

When I read this book of his letters I see "Sunflowers" completely different. Though the painter is never the painting and vice versa... As I try to pick apart another I realize that the same thing is done over and over and over and over. Who am I kidding? It's not like I could ever figure out a motive...etc. Sometimes it's good to just get out of your own head once in awhile.... when clicking submit doesn't mean CC:'ing your editor. Write for yourself... inside and out. Happy holidays, hug your dog and your mom. Stay safe.

Still in the Blur

I've been spending the weekend trying to cage all of the free spirits. So let's make sure to make them shiny so we'll be able to see them glisten on the ocean bottom. We'll take your flaws and polish them until they're as good as new... that is except for insecurity, there has been a recall on that one.

I'm guessing I look like I just got off a bender because everyone keeps saying "you really should get some rest." Like that was ever the problem.

It feels more like I'm a surgeon who can't cut himself open to save his own life. Going AWOL from ghost towns. My dreams are all backyards in the suburbs and you. And whatever happens in between, just make sure our plots are matching and next to each other.

It's kind of tough being a people pleaser when you aren't too fond of people in general. On steroids for the stomach pain - no, not the cool kind. Though one of the side effects is dementia.

I just want to lay in my own bed and think this through. Instead I sneak time on tile floors and passenger seats. I can hardly hold my head up long enough to find sentences in it. We can only drive past wreckage so many times until it sticks.

HaveHeartWillingToTravel

Up the dosage just to assess the damage. "You're too young to be writing like this." I mature with every word, hasn't anyone told you. It's all that I can do to spill my guts tonight. Everything is wound up and I'm without the energy to struggle.

No Need To Panic: Please Form a Line and Make Your Way Towards The Exits

Best friends means I pulled the trigger. And we all love how contradiction rolls so easily off of tongues. But if imitation is the highest form of flattery my pen should wear a crown.

Drove to work in a fog. Literal and Mental. This story is getting old. A home wrecker with a heart of gold. It's all just the same old blood rush applied with a new touch of ink.

Calm down Charlie Brown. The 1st Edition only allowed for 50 copies. You guys are awesome. Back in print in 07'!! Thanks for all of the support!


Switching blogs for the New Year. See you there! Enjoy your holiday.

ConfirmingReportsTheHostageHasBeenWounded

My One and Lonely

I can't get my mind to shut down long enough to make moves.

I have this love/hate relationship with being forgotten. There are times that I dread human contact. But there are also times that I can't stand to sleep alone. Two parts of me that are constantly at war with each other. My mood changes before I finish whole sentences. Hence the fragments.

Birth and death are really just the bookends, and no one explains how to find happiness in between, but I'm sure it is hiding somewhere far away from currency. I want cures, not houses.
You and me babe, let's be the survivors with the last bit of their flesh underneath our fingernails. This ship is gonna look pretty at the bottom of the sea.

Pills to fall asleep. Pills to wake up. Pills to keep going throughout the day. And just when you've got yourself figured out they change the dose. There's a prescription always to make you likable... at least for a little while. Some of your friends aren't really friends, and when you try to explain it there's a pill to shut you up. There's the few friends that are golden and they shine enough to blind you to the ones that aren't. Focus on what you have instead of what you don't. Otherwise it's missing sunrises trying to forget sunsets.

Everyone I used to love had a flaw I couldn't fix. Everyone I love now sees that flaw in me. RecoveringHypocrite

Right now this is the movie you heard had a bad ending so you didn't go see it. This is the movie you don't rent on DVD due to all of the bad reviews. This is everything you've ever heard but never witnessed yourself. This is me.

I misplaced my mind when I lost my skull ring last night.

Write My Troubles Away

Holding conversations on paper so you can't move the punctuation. You're a semantic arsonist. Catching hearts on fire with the twist of a word. Print this out and burn it to create your next great disaster. They just see a matchbook on the bathroom sink. I see the mirrors and a potential for smoke.

We are bricks on gas pedals. We are the ink on forged checks. I will make you mine and then forget you. My head is too crowded for the company. Can we go back to how it was?

I want you in my after 12am veins. Lately it all just feels like looking up through ice in a frozen pond at red cheeked families skating, carefree.

This Is The Take Over... The Breaks Over

She screams for help but no ones hears. Her words fall not on ears but on skin and there isn't a single physical object sharp enough to break the surface. Save your paper clips, pencils, and razors. The words and pain are far beyond anything she can understand. She only knows the quickness of being alone and it takes her breath away. Give her anything for tonight.

And it's never the same the next day. It echoes of last year, but the memories are not disappearing. She's at the other end of the tunnel, listening to her own voice as it comes back louder.

Her hands are tied to pages inked to bring him back. And no one should ever go through this.... alone.

AndTheVictimCommitedTheCrime

This User Has Traveled Outside Of The Service Area

Lying under oath or lying under me. These nights have become contagious. You are my latest injury and everyone knows that fresh wounds must come clean. Fess up or Lie down. I'm just a well oiled robot that sweats and bleeds ink and although I used to sweat what was said, now I just sweat her.

CUT TO: The innocent victim across town...

"You have my attention," he says before he answers his phone or flips a magazine page... without looking up. And to her that bathroom floor is more familiar than him. She can feel blood in her head and the back of her legs but not her heart because it doesn't belong to her anymore.

One handshake from hell is the same as another kiss from the alter. She's the one lab rat that has yet to be tested with the final product.

Pretty girl, when will you realize that if you don't turn the page it will eventually turn on you.

The Hippo And The Turtle

This picture brings thoughts of me and her. The hippo lost its mom in the tsunami. Now he hangs out with this turtle and follows it around. From what I've read they have developed their own form of communication. I heart the Hippo and the Turtle.

How I'm living. The chemists call it crossed signals. The poets call it magical.

This is an unofficial surrender. But you can't see my white flag through all of the cameras flashing in your direction. Or maybe it's because you are only looking at the kiss in the corner of her mouth. Even Wendy looks like a home wrecker from Tinks perspective.

Half moon pills. And the way that they talk about you isn't even close. That's why I'm keeping our best days in our memories and our best lines closed tight in books.

Quick overnights in Mexico City. Gingerbread disasters and wrecked DVD's. She sleeps in my hoodies while I burn into the sheets.

NextDayLife

Eyes The Size Of Baby Worlds

OHOP laughter. Suicidal squirrels and abuse from a pancake covered in hair. We still have it. We've decided that breakfast is more than dangerous so next time we're sleeping in.

I'm sensing some antidote in the way the world has been speaking to me. But I'm all heart with these fingers stuck in my ears. Playing scenes from my childhood so loud that I can't hear what has happened to me.

If I'm a catch then they're just a net with a hole in it. I tried fitting in and I stood out; tried standing out and I blended in with the walls. I finally found myself and now no one notices me unless I make a scene. I have become the voice of a wanna-be story teller and a natural born traitor. Ghostwriting hits, written for my Misses.

Sometimes I wonder if they think about giving up on me when they see the moon in the afternoon. I have given up on myself too many times to count. You could trade mistakes for sheep and count me away forever at night... but you don't. Thanks for never giving up on me.... even when you truly should have.

And most of this incoherent thought is just being wasted on whether it will mean more to stay or to go. Currently learning the art of speaking in Parseltongue.

Did You Hear It Skip?

Dr.'s notes and co-pays take up afternoons and my thought process. Distraction in a pretty package. Waking up with words on lips, like the strands of a leftover dream.... and haven't I always held that closer to me than anything tangible?

Her eyes flicker with the telltale uncertainties of a lie when she speaks.... and you're finding yourself distracted and listless when she feeds you lines stolen from old forties black and white tortured heart dramatic girl/handsome stranger classics. The heroine has fallen victim to the cinematics.

Guards... take her away. Roll the red-cheeked false eyelashes away through the back, avoid press coverage. Twoamlife.

Pumping cellphones full of trepidation, uncertainty and the tiniest thrill. If she's lying to you then she won't be the first and there won't be anything to stop you from forgetting her forever... exept for the fact you're obsessed with crashing into her. FamousSecret

Two bodies and a gate away from our dreams. The moon off of our shoulders. Back pocket love. Front pocket lust.

They're all still sprinting down that one track mind and I have half a mind to let them win.