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| Just Text |
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| This Isn't Feminism |
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| Boys, Why Oh Why? |
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| Girl's Guide To Revenge |
"so it goes. . ."
And this time has come that I have feared. I wondered where I would be and how it would go. I was always warned that you never live forever with your first love, but I was blinded by a blissful foolish sense. And now comes the point that everyone has to stand, an end to the era you never thought would end. It happened just like predicted, a faded memory of promises never kept. And I guess I never said I was sorry. But I am, sorry. And here I am standing on this new ground that I have never traveled. And you're not here. But with this new ground, comes a new mind and I wouldn't want you here. Love is a weird experience and I won't try to be a fool and describe it's very essence. I could never live without it. And yet it's so hard to live with it. I could move on with or without you, either way it's a burden. But, dear, this is the end of the end. There is nothing else left to do, but say our goodbyes and quit pretending there is something to salvage.
Mysterious only on the brink of closeness. You come and go as you please. And this only attaches me to you. Your voice is a soothing razor blade. Etched into my mind, knocking out memories of others. The thoughts that you speak create an excitement as I listen wide eyed and attentive. Broken but glued together you are the epitome of what I'm not supposed to want. I'm attracted to the knowledge I could never have you. Making me want to create lust from love. Play on my bitterness and laugh at my insecurities then ease the smile into my heart. You make thoughts of fucking seem so right. You're a superstar. Set on a pedastal in the light of my eyes.
I'm trying to write here. I know exactly what I want to say, but it's not coming out right. It's just a mess of words about boys that isn't pin pointing the meaning of my days. My words aren't coming out clearly enough to paint the picture I'd like you to see. I'm having a blank screen frustration attack. Settling the differences in my mind. Don't call it "Writer's Block" because my mind isn't blank. And don't call it lack of talent, because I could probably throw out a couple of lines that you couldn't even imagine writing. And if you couldn't tell this frustration of not being able to convey my story is making me irrate so I'll go now before I offend you once more.
Insight to disbelief
I won't let harm come to me.
I am the one who will bring you down.
This innocent face mustn't lead you on.
I will crush you with a million bricks
And then I will tell the world you're a prick
"What happened to the love of my
life?"
What happened to you?
You changed with a new look and
sound.
You left me behind with my memories and songs of old.
You were so
rockin in '68, my buttercup.
Then you were in New York City, my little punk
rock friend.
But then you grew up and I don't recognize you anymore.
Yes,
I still love you, even the new you,
but I miss the old you, oh so much.
You were the craziest cat with your jazzy ways.
Even your blues drove me
wild.
But now you seem to have mellowed out,
do you need a lift?
Sugar, Sugar you used to make me dance
and now all I want to do is cry.
I love you oh so much,
but why did you go and change on me?
Remember
back in the old days when you waltz the night away?
Even more in the past
when you did the jig?
Oh, my love, will you come back to me?
Sings those
songs of old and make me dance once more time, my Satellite of Love?
If you think that this is about a boy... you're wrong... this is about the love of my life and how it's changed over the years and how much I miss the old days...
Music
off to bed, before my mind gets the best of me
off to bed, before the nightly depression sets in
off to bed, so i don't have to think about where you are
off to bed, so i can find some solace in the moments of sleep
all by myself with nothing to do.
brew a cup of coffee,
smoke a thousand cigarettes.
think of a million ways to write my name
boredom exists in the hours spent alone
Morning almost here and my throat aches chain smoking two packs of cigarettes, yet my fingers long to keep going, my mind won't stop. and this is the custom of long nights with nothing to do. when the words start forming into stories of unknown worlds and dramatics of the foolish. to finish would be wonderful, but unfortunately it is always a work in progress
woe is me
You say it's gone, but I
can still see it there. You're not looking hard enough to find the truth. I
don't think that we're such a great pair, but in this time of need, we have to
find a way to work this out. You keep screaming your calls of need and I keep
pushing your buttons, letting you know I'm here. Don't be so mechnic and I'll
try not to be so frustrated. We can work this out together. As a team, just this
once, we'll try again.
My fucking printer seems to think it's out of paper, but it's not!