ten times over...

Ten times over, I am a fool
Tired of the same mis-used patterns
That separate us from the truth
Truth is, nothing we do ever matters

The wine I ate for dinner made my stomach ache
And it made everything fade in such a nice way
Please tell me this fuzziness never has to change
I'm stuck in this sea of self hate

From day to day I hear the muffled voices say
Behind my back, behind my back
It makes me want to break apart my face
A heart attack, a heart attack

Douse me in three litres of kerosene
And set me alight
Don't even bother remembering of me
Just say goodbye

I can't let go to something held so close
I have to have it torn from my hands
Anyone who's been addicted knows
Anyone who's been in love understands

I'm going to take this time to decompress
And digest the words that I never said
Put together, they speak profound
And maybe I'll be a litte comforted
If I find somewhere safe to rest my head
I'll hope to sleep safe and sound

sex on the beach

you can't dance with ghosts
but you can hold on to them for far too long

You know how, as a kid, during those playground days
you dreaded that moment where everyone would decide
that you were the funniest thing they had ever seen,
and they would point and laugh with no care for grace?

Nothing could be colder than your ass-cheeks on the steel of the slide in winter
But you still used it as a last-stitch escape route during long wars of Tag
And although it's a game that has no winners, don't consider growing tired or bitter
Just remember the sandbox politics, because they're not coming back

Once I burned my nose on a marshmallow I was roasting over open flame
didn't hurt much, I was just embarrassed
of similarities between Rudolph the Red Nos'd and me
goddamn my need for the product to be burned to a crisp, what a shame

-focal points will shift- -do not be alarmed-

(when nothing and everything make sense at the same time
doesn't it kill all semblances of sanity?
doesn't it make you want to reach for your glass of red wine?

when you can't figure out the proper shutter speed on the lenses in your skull
does it seem bittersweet, blurring the things not meant to be seen
the somewhat-relaxing-somewhat-jarring sensation of losing control?)

trying to find my way from the crooked edges of illegible incoherence back
to the place where I forgot or lost my immature innocence
to where it snaps and cracks

Seasonal shifts, when Autumn hits (budging in on Summer)
littering the sidewalk with brown and gold
(and the air is still'd by the cold- the chill that sticks to the bone)
you can count on older thoughts and younger days filling the spaces between your ribs
playground politics expanding your chest
the rest of your life can wait...
right now, now that Autumn is badgering summer to be over
hastening the inevitable
(the linear certainty of aging)
the romantic notion of youth, that feeling that strikes the chord that makes the tingles and the aches in all the right ways... the rest of your life can wait
...reminiscence, yeah, that's for today...

Ode to Future Roomates

I hope you like the smell of fresh burning marijuana
And if you wanna hold hands and dance to seventies punk jams, I'm your man
I can do hand stands when I'm drunk, I got that Vancouver hydro skunk
I fit nicely inside the car trunk for those long drives with limited car space

I'm flexible, something similar to a rubber band
But I prefer not to be wrapped around a newspaper

I don't have too many personality flaws, I got a chiseled jaw and I like to chew gum
I'm fun to have around at parties and I go all night long
I got a dong that shows through my pants, you can sneak a peek by chance
If my girlfriend doesn't kill me first

If I'm quiet from time to time, it's 'cause I'm trying to write some immature rhyme
or running Shakespeare lines from some show I did a few years back in my mind.

If you have red hair and hate people chewing their nails, beware:
I do it all the time

If my breath reeks of wine and my smile turns red
It's not the Cabernet, it's the blood draining from my head
The rush, rush, rush
 Now I'm dizzy as fuck

I like my vodka whiskey like I like my sex,
As frequently as possible, please
But don't judge me- I'm as functional as I need to be

I do my own damned dishes and play my music at a decent decibel
My room will never smell offensively
I'm gonna be the best damn roommie
Yeah, that's me!

(to be continued)

Our Two Person Show

Her name starts with a "T" and looks like a holy cross to me
I can't predict the future, I'm trying not to live in the past
so I won't doubt, when she says she loves my insides, I'll believe
And let this one be for real, let this one be the last
Name and number I'll e'er have to know

You know, you know
When she met me I was broke
And now I'm whole
I'm not missing any pieces
Anymore

When the winter grows cold I've got the perfect piece of the sun to hold,
Someone to laugh with 'till our mouths crack
Someone to kiss my nose

Our teeth can clink against each other with each passing taste of every drink
I sip her in, she guzzles me down
That's just how we breathe

We dance when there's no music, in the glow of the dying daylight
Swaying to the rhythm of cardiovascular perfection
I get lost, I get lost in her eyes

We play characters in roles we never got cast in
To plays no one ever wrote
Set the frame, work the lighting and call "Action!"
A masterpiece two person show

Drunk offa' Stars

It's an insecure morning.
Mirrors haven't been quite this cruel in recent memory and my daily obsessive rituals are failing me and everything I see is completely distorted.
I don't know how I gained five-hundred pounds in my head but reason is dead and never really helped anyway- I pick at my face
I pick at my face to tear away the imperfections I can't keep count of with this busted complexion I hate
I've lost sense of direction and I'm giving in

I run 'till my ankles bleed to make sure the lard that I feed myself gets burned off my hips
From my spine to my lips I purge in a toilet stall
The vomit sounds alive in my ears
The price I'll pay to stay small

I chew on my nails, but they're full of calories and this guilt is killing me
I chew 'em till they're down to the flesh and further, 'till they bleed
I overfed myself once again on air- I wish I had a tapeworm or a disease
That would make me stay skinny

My hair is mangled and my skin is pale, my neck is crooked and I'm poor as hell
I've got nothing to give anyone except empty pockets and broken eye sockets
Clumsy and ashamed in all the stupid and unattractive ways
Insecure about my insecurity 'cause that's just how I roll
Yeah, try and top that you emo motherfuckers

I can't sing right, I can't drink wine the way the Grecians had in mind
I don't use my brain the way Darwin would have liked
And I lost my soul at the flea market, so the god I'm not convinced in must be dancing in anger

Here comes the sun to chase away what remained of my comfortable quiet
I'll just get back to my diet of self-loathing and water

Whatevs

If my value were assessed by what's left in my pockets,
I'd be worth twenty-six cents
A quarter and a penny
If I tried to hide what good I have left inside,
I wouldn't have to conceal anything
It's not even funny

If you critiqued these scribbled lines of poetry honestly,
You'd be on a task without limits
This nonsense I try to write that always lacks proper insight
And has reality dismissed
Is full of bullshit

Sorry to have led you on, I have nothing to offer, you've done nothing wrong
But I know we'll both end up nowhere in the end
All I wanted all along was something that could fool me into thinking I belong
The reality is, I guess we should just be friends

Nicotine kind'a burns my tongue

I quit smoking (cigarettes) eleven days ago.
I did it to impress a girl
and myself...
I haven't been updating this mess of a blog, probably because I've been out of drugs more days than I've had them.
 It could also have something to do with the fact that I have a fairly large role to be working on.
( for the theatrically inclined, I scored Rosencrantz in 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead' )
My artistic juices are leaking outta' my pores and spilling through my ears. I feel like I can't collect any original thought, like I'm running dry.
Like Bilbo would say: too much bread, too little butter.

Music is a helluva lot easier nowadays, now that my lungs feel about three times their normal size. I can run more than a mile, too, which is totally kick ass.
I got a twelve pack for less than ten dollars, and I'm stoked about that, too.
My twenty-fourth birthday is coming up. Holy shit. That sounds hella'fuckin' old.

After six months of being single, fucking around a little too frequently, far too often with no emotion whatsoever, I think I finally really like someone. She plays it really close to the sleeve, though, so I can't tell what the fuck she's thinking about ninety-percent of the time. Rather odd, considering how I usually am pretty on point with things like that. Maybe that's a selling point, considering the status quo. A change of pace sounds like a much needed thing these days.

I play with my facial hair way too much. My hands busier now than ever before, looking for familiar cigarette-but feelings. I chew on the ends of pens. I eat more than ever before. I have lost weight.
I got phantom pains where the soft-places in my lungs have expunged the tar resin that tasted so sweet on the way back up. The second time can be better than the first now and again.

I've been eating knots of stress that settle just below my ribs and my chest and it gets harder when memories come back
They come back to bite us, they come back to haunt us, they come back to bite us in the ass
But I'm getting better and tougher each day
Keeping the cigarette shivers at bay
Nicotine don't got me by the throat
And I know that this vodka will do the trick
Of hitting me in just the right way
so I won't have to think so goddamned much



On a sidenote, (and as an update) I am loving the new feeling of... just about my entire body. So I guess I'll keep it up. I'm over a month offa' smokes, so we'll see.
That's all for now. Yep.