Beautiful Losers is what drove me to insanity. it's what drove me to writing for a bit. it drove me to a lot of strange compelling thoughts, etc.
12.15.2009
10.26.2009
(missing you at 10pm is a drag of a cigarette
strange now to think of you, plus two hundred miles away from what i call yr home. the oil paints drip off the loosely stretched canvas onto the 4 lonely sunflowers. the sunflowers sit, perched over & slouching a bit in a transparent vase as i await yr return. i too sit slouched over a bit, killing time by watching the hamsa dangle off my tiny wrist & staring at the letters on my screen. in defense of the evil eye i must say, even all the first edition bukowskis could not have this emotion stray away. & while the smell of turpentine lingers in my sheets i can't help but be reminded that two hundred minutes ago you had filled those sheets with yr tom ford cologne. all that is left is to sit slouching and waiting, while chain smoking the reds you left here for me.
and so i realize it is time to let it unfold.
(collection of memories )
and so i realize it is time to let it unfold.
(collection of memories )
10.21.2009
sometimes i like to ramble cause i can
leave me with grandiose noise !
w/ a wet romantic ear attached to yr brainy nose
that was once kissed by the Egyptians
whispering 'don't look into the eyes on the walls'
symbols creating jibber jabber nonsense full throttle at the neck of it all
you wore your
y-y-yet i don't expect you to understand
love that was found through buffalo coined nickels
in 1929, you weren't even alive kid.
& still, the eggshells broken cost more then what it meant to be a spy
w/ a wet romantic ear attached to yr brainy nose
that was once kissed by the Egyptians
whispering 'don't look into the eyes on the walls'
symbols creating jibber jabber nonsense full throttle at the neck of it all
you wore your
y-y-yet i don't expect you to understand
love that was found through buffalo coined nickels
in 1929, you weren't even alive kid.
& still, the eggshells broken cost more then what it meant to be a spy
lets be other people
im writing to you. the creator telling you
or maybe
yr wrting to me
on how to be a new person
yet im stuck in old traps and yr a saint and i am finally fucking a saint 23 years its taken, or was it 29?
its a new journey.
old
& why did i stumble upon you? was the whole journey embarked to meet you? to write you this letter? to let (?) arise? nonexistances? should i accept all and connect nothing with this? im dampened in my paintines the oneS lying in the corner now....
what did they do to u
why did u ever arrive
do u keep past secrets hidden?
what do you avoid?
how did you let go of your past so easy?
is it so hard with me so its not spoken of?
im running towards my pen again
help me pick up the pieces
let me be yr cheerleader
sing me sad songs
let me conquer life so you too conquer life
will my insatiable curiousity starve me?
did it already?
why do you love me in my way?
how did u know?
am i too downhearted lately?
its because i miss you
no
its because i dont want to do this alone
only with you
i was waiting for yr arrival before i could ever write you these words
why is this all connecting so delicately?
yr teaching me how much i loathe my own self pity
no more self victim role for me
never fit quite right
for so long i was lost in ()
im found in yr arms now
wrapping me in the same shape as them
after i fucked you like you were some omnipotent creatore
a same of todays way
truisms were now revealed
moths still fly near the lights
neighbors are seen walking their dogs
birds begin to chirxp
all of lifes trivials trot on but you boby
you opened the light.
it was all a facade before.
i had to do this
delve into my own brain to realize this
before this my past was not real. my experiences were warped so id be ready for the benefits of you&me
when did you decide to love me?
or maybe
yr wrting to me
on how to be a new person
yet im stuck in old traps and yr a saint and i am finally fucking a saint 23 years its taken, or was it 29?
its a new journey.
old
& why did i stumble upon you? was the whole journey embarked to meet you? to write you this letter? to let (?) arise? nonexistances? should i accept all and connect nothing with this? im dampened in my paintines the oneS lying in the corner now....
what did they do to u
why did u ever arrive
do u keep past secrets hidden?
what do you avoid?
how did you let go of your past so easy?
is it so hard with me so its not spoken of?
im running towards my pen again
help me pick up the pieces
let me be yr cheerleader
sing me sad songs
let me conquer life so you too conquer life
will my insatiable curiousity starve me?
did it already?
why do you love me in my way?
how did u know?
am i too downhearted lately?
its because i miss you
no
its because i dont want to do this alone
only with you
i was waiting for yr arrival before i could ever write you these words
why is this all connecting so delicately?
yr teaching me how much i loathe my own self pity
no more self victim role for me
never fit quite right
for so long i was lost in ()
im found in yr arms now
wrapping me in the same shape as them
after i fucked you like you were some omnipotent creatore
a same of todays way
truisms were now revealed
moths still fly near the lights
neighbors are seen walking their dogs
birds begin to chirxp
all of lifes trivials trot on but you boby
you opened the light.
it was all a facade before.
i had to do this
delve into my own brain to realize this
before this my past was not real. my experiences were warped so id be ready for the benefits of you&me
when did you decide to love me?
lucifer
yr fit for yr days like a suit hemmed on fifth avenue, slinking in the window display, yr on yr toes, sharp as a tact, a rough patched beard to match, a crooked smile, daunting sea breeze eyes only an old soul could carry.
love found under yr hat pressed firmly to yr mind , molded like clay a part of you within my life now
found
unfinished
love found under yr hat pressed firmly to yr mind , molded like clay a part of you within my life now
found
unfinished
weeping willow
also from rehab days
there is a weeping willow tree beside my weeping bench for my weeping withered soul to sit beneath. i'm so scared to lose you. yr the old bull still walking through the pasture. i am not ready for you to go yet.
he's so sick, getting old serving his words carefully to me - tinged with hope and wisdom hes wacky but not so much anymore. i hate being away. always scared. weeping willow, do me some good.
broken nose x seven
over broken teeth
weak bones
decaying muscles
yet
yr stronger than a bull
hair in yr ears
no dream too pretty to heal
yr voice remains strong no sign of yr weakness
clever are the words you served breathed into me
will death bring you okinawa again? or the pyramids? you married, had children.
hindsight of your dreams.
there is a weeping willow tree beside my weeping bench for my weeping withered soul to sit beneath. i'm so scared to lose you. yr the old bull still walking through the pasture. i am not ready for you to go yet.
he's so sick, getting old serving his words carefully to me - tinged with hope and wisdom hes wacky but not so much anymore. i hate being away. always scared. weeping willow, do me some good.
broken nose x seven
over broken teeth
weak bones
decaying muscles
yet
yr stronger than a bull
hair in yr ears
no dream too pretty to heal
yr voice remains strong no sign of yr weakness
clever are the words you served breathed into me
will death bring you okinawa again? or the pyramids? you married, had children.
hindsight of your dreams.
this will be edited one day
OLD
there is a flicker inside my heart: two matchsticks if you will, keeping the spark lit. with shaky palms, it fumbles. often times it wont light. other times, the flame turns iridescent, burns so bright it creates this indigo apocalyptic explosion. the unknown explore these matches in amazement. sometimes, they shake. others are careful. they work hard to keep the spark going. bad blood puts that spark right out. its silly you see. the matches were in the makers heart all along caring. she passed them along to be shared. unknowingly, sometimes the others hands/minds were too shaky and fumbled to try to keep it lit. they did not have the patience. its okay though: the spark is mine and mine alone. i must keep it lit. ignore the jealous ones. the disapprovers. the ones who are always right. they mean no harm. they just don't know better.
there is a flicker inside my heart: two matchsticks if you will, keeping the spark lit. with shaky palms, it fumbles. often times it wont light. other times, the flame turns iridescent, burns so bright it creates this indigo apocalyptic explosion. the unknown explore these matches in amazement. sometimes, they shake. others are careful. they work hard to keep the spark going. bad blood puts that spark right out. its silly you see. the matches were in the makers heart all along caring. she passed them along to be shared. unknowingly, sometimes the others hands/minds were too shaky and fumbled to try to keep it lit. they did not have the patience. its okay though: the spark is mine and mine alone. i must keep it lit. ignore the jealous ones. the disapprovers. the ones who are always right. they mean no harm. they just don't know better.
10.17.2009
come back
i need to find myself i dont want to do this i cant do it again but i want to so very badly choices are trite and cheapened ay?
9.21.2009
communication breakdown
god damnit, you always were unconventional. you hated using rubber bands & erasers & you'd never call me lady cause it'd feel wrong & you'd deny your insatiable sexual appetite but only because you were not so very good, & i always wondered where you grew up. when provoked or asked anything of the sort you'd never tell the truth, instead just state: i never grew up anywhere but on mars . . .
something always got yr attention steered clear of me. yet you'd turn over and mutter in a sleepy kiss wake up & i'd reply with a snap - wide awake its morning ! & oh and tell me a story of the buffalos. or can i tell you a story never learned of arizona? just one more tall tale of the suns setting on the horizons. oh ! & do you think those rusted rocks drip with paint when it's too hot? can one chip the rock bits off and create aztec designs swirled into clothing & minds? please tell me just one more bedtime story? it's so lonely over here, i am begging you.
well, here it goes lady: you are nothing but something cool when you are young one forgot to grow out of.
the end.
something always got yr attention steered clear of me. yet you'd turn over and mutter in a sleepy kiss wake up & i'd reply with a snap - wide awake its morning ! & oh and tell me a story of the buffalos. or can i tell you a story never learned of arizona? just one more tall tale of the suns setting on the horizons. oh ! & do you think those rusted rocks drip with paint when it's too hot? can one chip the rock bits off and create aztec designs swirled into clothing & minds? please tell me just one more bedtime story? it's so lonely over here, i am begging you.
well, here it goes lady: you are nothing but something cool when you are young one forgot to grow out of.
the end.
a mash^
chills hit the back of the throat no sooner or later than the hairs on a back. a shake to the leg & a twitch to the lips & you land just to take-off. yes at it again captain - off to the horizons, beyond the sea. arriving here & leaving there while thoughts bounce off yr binaural brain-waves, which we mistaken for another game of pac-man. here is a boundary so many have crossed yet so few have succeeded to bend the elasticity of their minds to reach new thresholds. what did you say captain? aim for the apologizes?
perhaps you are correct. perhaps i owe you all an apology. you see, this was never of my intent. the games were not meant for dismissal, meant to be traded for a journey into the end of time. but alas, i was pushed back to the beginning & now terms must be dealt with. you always said, you must know the rules before you begin to play. lose & you will be sent back to start. simple as that. fall down the chute while you reach for the ladders & nothing good will ever come. I never did excel in comprehensive listening classes.
& i never meant to get entangled and trapped, either. nevertheless, hide & seek at recess is over. everyone's invited to show & tell now. here there is a strange rebirth occuring in my mind. look into these grey faded eyes, slowing finding colour again. please justlook watch these eyes as i begin the story & understand why this journey has to ocur. but we cannot go back. no going back, there is new. we will find the mystery.
and remember, there are no shortcuts. you will not awake a heaven scented angel. you will never become a sunflower .ginsberg was wrong.
perhaps you are correct. perhaps i owe you all an apology. you see, this was never of my intent. the games were not meant for dismissal, meant to be traded for a journey into the end of time. but alas, i was pushed back to the beginning & now terms must be dealt with. you always said, you must know the rules before you begin to play. lose & you will be sent back to start. simple as that. fall down the chute while you reach for the ladders & nothing good will ever come. I never did excel in comprehensive listening classes.
& i never meant to get entangled and trapped, either. nevertheless, hide & seek at recess is over. everyone's invited to show & tell now. here there is a strange rebirth occuring in my mind. look into these grey faded eyes, slowing finding colour again. please justlook watch these eyes as i begin the story & understand why this journey has to ocur. but we cannot go back. no going back, there is new. we will find the mystery.
and remember, there are no shortcuts. you will not awake a heaven scented angel. you will never become a sunflower .ginsberg was wrong.
9.11.2009
(because i need you)
i'm fearing my small heart again. it's true, i wanted to find a saint. i wanted miracles to blind my tired eyes. perhaps they have. but what you wish never equates to the small facing truth of what you get. yes, miracles of others shine through. but does the shine needs to come from within? what can i say? what can i do? i wanted my xray vision to blind the inner cores of others. i wanted inspiration of mine to leak into heavy hearts of street passers. i wanted to play savior. i'm not used to needing saving. (this is all just a lie now) i wanted my body to dangle like sunflowers perched on a windowsill pocket hidden apartment on the lower east side. i wanted a brainy mind with cracked parts for the bad parts to be hidden in & leak into. i wanted to conduct experiments on boys who forgot to shape their minds. i wanted to show them electrical waves to find their way home. i wanted to follow yellow lines on the road & find MY way home. i wanted faded pictures of brautigan to give shape to me. i wanted to experience the visions only mystics dreamt of. elevate from the chaos, giving myself away to chance. & you, wearing only a beard as a saint would, you, having heavy blue eyes, seeing past the chaos. you, you came for me. & yet, i still find myself speaking through parenthesis.
(because i need you)
i'm fearing my small heart again. it's true, i wanted to find a saint. i wanted miracles to blind my tired eyes. perhaps they have. but what you wish never equates to the small facing truth of what you get. yes, miracles of others shine through. but does the shine needs to come from within? what can i say? what can i do? i wanted my xray vision to blind the inner cores of others. i wanted inspiration of mine to leak into heavy hearts of street passers. i wanted to play savior. i'm not used to needing saving. (this is all just a lie now) i wanted my body to dangle like sunflowers perched on a windowsill pocket hidden apartment on the lower east side. i wanted a brainy mind with cracked parts for the bad parts to be hidden in & leak into. i wanted to conduct experiments on boys who forgot to shape their minds. i wanted to show them electrical waves to find their way home. i wanted to follow yellow lines on the road & find MY way home. i wanted faded pictures of brautigan to give shape to me. i wanted to experience the visions only mystics dreamt of. elevate from the chaos, giving myself away to chance. & you, wearing only a beard as a saint would, you, having heavy blue eyes, seeing past the chaos. you, you came for me. & yet, i still find myself speaking through parenthesis.
9.10.2009
no more is nice
will i ever want to write again?
the words are so thick and muddy and rotted inside my brain.
perhaps one day.
the words are so thick and muddy and rotted inside my brain.
perhaps one day.
8.01.2009
LEARNING HOW TO SAVE FACE IN THE FRIGHTENED DANGERS LYING AHEAD
consist of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Microwave_auditory_effect
i don't know, something i've been tapping into as of the late...maybe i will go somewhere with this.
SO :
is love an algorithm formed by a binary coalesce, consisting of elements locked inside ones head saved to be determined on a later date? perhaps a rainy day? these past events that flickered in and out of brief moments in my life are now creating a binary-string, no no not binary, instead, digital string, quite advanced lets say. oh wait ! numbers - yes . its a code breaking barriers. perhaps it is the positional representation system; wavelengths are sent out through the numerology's, representing all the characteristics of what one is looking for. depending on our position at that very moment, we sticking to numbers and souls that are in need. the brow is graced with the presence and in lies your touch where a wave of a mystical visions occurs. is it all leading to the final test? the final push play effect; working and jotting and working
(sometimes my mind is so shaky but you bring me the comfort & ill bring the sobrierty and well mix the two and lets see how this one heads out)
maybe instead love is loose left pieces of us, scattered around ashes, forming some unknown knew vibration mechanically or irrationally even sent out to the universe with no oppositions allowed. little pieces of us flicker into particles of ashes around us that while others release these, they swirl together and create a new found sent aroma to the other person causing LOVE
i'm smiling wide somewhat shyed at you
with eyes slinted curiouser and curiouser for you
i don't know, something i've been tapping into as of the late...maybe i will go somewhere with this.
SO :
is love an algorithm formed by a binary coalesce, consisting of elements locked inside ones head saved to be determined on a later date? perhaps a rainy day? these past events that flickered in and out of brief moments in my life are now creating a binary-string, no no not binary, instead, digital string, quite advanced lets say. oh wait ! numbers - yes . its a code breaking barriers. perhaps it is the positional representation system; wavelengths are sent out through the numerology's, representing all the characteristics of what one is looking for. depending on our position at that very moment, we sticking to numbers and souls that are in need. the brow is graced with the presence and in lies your touch where a wave of a mystical visions occurs. is it all leading to the final test? the final push play effect; working and jotting and working
(sometimes my mind is so shaky but you bring me the comfort & ill bring the sobrierty and well mix the two and lets see how this one heads out)
maybe instead love is loose left pieces of us, scattered around ashes, forming some unknown knew vibration mechanically or irrationally even sent out to the universe with no oppositions allowed. little pieces of us flicker into particles of ashes around us that while others release these, they swirl together and create a new found sent aroma to the other person causing LOVE
i'm smiling wide somewhat shyed at you
with eyes slinted curiouser and curiouser for you
7.15.2009
7.14.2009
"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom."
daydreaming of
morphine
dilulads
oxys
roxies
heroin
and
amphetamines
please
this life is so boring. i don't want to be near anyone or anything or anywhere i just want to sit in my room be skinny enjoy my old ways
now
it is annoying to go to work
school
live
live
live
i am not even living
im existing
i was living before
enjoying
wah wah wah
keep whining lizzy
its gonna get you realll far
& for some burroughs:
The hallucinogens produce visionary states, sort of, but morphine and its derivatives decrease awareness of inner processes, thoughts and feelings. They are pain killers; pure and simple. They are absolutely contraindicated for creative work, and I include in the lot alcohol, morphine, barbiturates, tranquilizers—the whole spectrum of sedative drugs.
morphine
dilulads
oxys
roxies
heroin
and
amphetamines
please
this life is so boring. i don't want to be near anyone or anything or anywhere i just want to sit in my room be skinny enjoy my old ways
now
it is annoying to go to work
school
live
live
live
i am not even living
im existing
i was living before
enjoying
wah wah wah
keep whining lizzy
its gonna get you realll far
& for some burroughs:
The hallucinogens produce visionary states, sort of, but morphine and its derivatives decrease awareness of inner processes, thoughts and feelings. They are pain killers; pure and simple. They are absolutely contraindicated for creative work, and I include in the lot alcohol, morphine, barbiturates, tranquilizers—the whole spectrum of sedative drugs.
7.10.2009
7.05.2009
back on the ides of MARCH i died a little bit
in this mind of mine, the atoms are not all set into places anymore where they should be. they are slowly scattering, spiraling into the depths of the crevices of a deteriorating unicorn like dream world fantasy take my hand come with me to the voice of the unknown. where the walls are open and roses in the closet are drawn by others planted into this situation .
i've been planted into a sticky situation of sunflower beams growing from my mind, exploring a world filled with delusions. is it so very wrong my malicious intent, i am only aware of after it happened? how do i conduct experiments anymore when my mind is blank? its a slate of atoms not delicately interconnected no more no no instead, instead it is drawn like a puzzle piece with all the wrong pieces placed into the wrong boxes, we wont solve this; fix this. interactions are making the one unstable. i cant stand my own mind. its blank.
help.
why are my thoughts so scattered? why did i misplace myself? am i the angel headed hipster fallen saint crank heart lost in my own world that ginsberg cried about? have i done this to myself? why am i misplaced? feel me out: make this better.
into a vehicle we sat where typewriter ink streamed from the seatbelt to the chair; there were pianos chiming and vibrations and you spoke of brooklyn's nighttime daydreaming fantasies; nothing was real and everything was an illusion in this world i created you stated. are you real? is anything that has gone on lately? when did i come to this? i am yr burnt piece of toast thrown away . i am the overcooked slice of pizza nobody wants to eat. i am the defected Christmas toy returned before a new year has had the chance to arise.
my mind is crooked. it needs fixing. please be kind, fix this mess i have been entangled in. i cannot do this alone.
i've been planted into a sticky situation of sunflower beams growing from my mind, exploring a world filled with delusions. is it so very wrong my malicious intent, i am only aware of after it happened? how do i conduct experiments anymore when my mind is blank? its a slate of atoms not delicately interconnected no more no no instead, instead it is drawn like a puzzle piece with all the wrong pieces placed into the wrong boxes, we wont solve this; fix this. interactions are making the one unstable. i cant stand my own mind. its blank.
help.
why are my thoughts so scattered? why did i misplace myself? am i the angel headed hipster fallen saint crank heart lost in my own world that ginsberg cried about? have i done this to myself? why am i misplaced? feel me out: make this better.
into a vehicle we sat where typewriter ink streamed from the seatbelt to the chair; there were pianos chiming and vibrations and you spoke of brooklyn's nighttime daydreaming fantasies; nothing was real and everything was an illusion in this world i created you stated. are you real? is anything that has gone on lately? when did i come to this? i am yr burnt piece of toast thrown away . i am the overcooked slice of pizza nobody wants to eat. i am the defected Christmas toy returned before a new year has had the chance to arise.
my mind is crooked. it needs fixing. please be kind, fix this mess i have been entangled in. i cannot do this alone.
can someone, such as myself, with such a rotted soul, become someone with a kind heart? I don't think it is true.not in this atmosphere anyway. i fake it often. i fake most emotion. it's true - in these settings i am quite selfish.
how long can i stay sober for?
i've drank two separate nights. i have only told one person this. now its written on here. i haven't been drunk yet.
i know i will use heroin again. i can't fucking wait. it's all just a matter of time. mater of when i can score big. matter of when i can go out with a bang ! matter of when no one is home to catch me this time around. i am done with this life. it's just not for me.
i want to go live in the clouds.
this life is too real for me to imagine.
just faking day by day this superficial happiness.
i've been happy in the past.
i know there are future happy days to come.
i
just
dont
want
them
is that such a crime? if i know what i want, why does the rest of the world have to be selfish, then reply that I AM selfish? I worked fine at my job. i went to classes. i always used my own money. i paid my own rent.
everyone has their vicerag.
some people like twisted fucking pornos.
some people get their rocks off drinking.
some people live the double life. work hard play harder.
me? i liked to tie up. so the fuck what.
its not legal, so let the cops take care of it. dont play patrol on my life mother. its not yr fucking job, nor will it ever be.
i'm sick and tired of everyone telling me to make my own decisions, yet i am still babied.
i am the worlds oldest baby & i want to try on new skin for a while. perhaps go off the radar. perhaps just end it all already.
i wont pass out while trying to end it this time. i've measured it all out. just a matter of when i have money again.
i have too many bills to do what i really want. i have too many responsibilities. i would have gotten sober for 20 grand if they sent me to school in california. instead - rehab. where i used it as a nice break from reality. i told them i'd be using again. and i will. because it was not what i wanted, and guess what, i am a selfish cunt when on long island.
i wasnt like this in rehab. you know, its funny, as much as i hated being away...i was nice as hell. i treated everyone with the respect they deserved. noone was judging me for the first time. noone was trying to romanticize life and compliment me just to get in my pants. it was all pretty real.
it felt so much more realistic than this world ive painted for myself.
i need a break from this all.
its funny, im more depressed now, then when i was using.
ha !! Jokes on me !!!
how long can i stay sober for?
i've drank two separate nights. i have only told one person this. now its written on here. i haven't been drunk yet.
i know i will use heroin again. i can't fucking wait. it's all just a matter of time. mater of when i can score big. matter of when i can go out with a bang ! matter of when no one is home to catch me this time around. i am done with this life. it's just not for me.
i want to go live in the clouds.
this life is too real for me to imagine.
just faking day by day this superficial happiness.
i've been happy in the past.
i know there are future happy days to come.
i
just
dont
want
them
is that such a crime? if i know what i want, why does the rest of the world have to be selfish, then reply that I AM selfish? I worked fine at my job. i went to classes. i always used my own money. i paid my own rent.
everyone has their vicerag.
some people like twisted fucking pornos.
some people get their rocks off drinking.
some people live the double life. work hard play harder.
me? i liked to tie up. so the fuck what.
its not legal, so let the cops take care of it. dont play patrol on my life mother. its not yr fucking job, nor will it ever be.
i'm sick and tired of everyone telling me to make my own decisions, yet i am still babied.
i am the worlds oldest baby & i want to try on new skin for a while. perhaps go off the radar. perhaps just end it all already.
i wont pass out while trying to end it this time. i've measured it all out. just a matter of when i have money again.
i have too many bills to do what i really want. i have too many responsibilities. i would have gotten sober for 20 grand if they sent me to school in california. instead - rehab. where i used it as a nice break from reality. i told them i'd be using again. and i will. because it was not what i wanted, and guess what, i am a selfish cunt when on long island.
i wasnt like this in rehab. you know, its funny, as much as i hated being away...i was nice as hell. i treated everyone with the respect they deserved. noone was judging me for the first time. noone was trying to romanticize life and compliment me just to get in my pants. it was all pretty real.
it felt so much more realistic than this world ive painted for myself.
i need a break from this all.
its funny, im more depressed now, then when i was using.
ha !! Jokes on me !!!
7.02.2009
i never understood do it yourself projects,
or forced words,
or faking love just to clear loneliness
i never understood why i have to go to college
or rather
why i have to pay so fucking much to LEARN (okay maybe i understand the market but still..)
why finding new friends & traveling is TABOO
how we have to find ourselves and represent ourselves through our exterior image
why everyone is too fucking lazy to peel the mask away
why it matters so much to everyone if i keep my well paying job OR actually live for myself
i'm done living for everyone else
the more i do it
the more it breaks my heart more and more to realize the commodity ive become to everyone
im just another fashion trend lurking in and out of your closet
i'm just yr favorite toy that will be on the shelf soon enough
i'm sober yes, but happy? no. i was happier before. noone believes this. it was easier to numb all the shit rotting away at my miserable days.
yes i have friends too many though that i dislike
i just want a change of scenery
i don't want to be on long island anymore.
i was happy once you know
or forced words,
or faking love just to clear loneliness
i never understood why i have to go to college
or rather
why i have to pay so fucking much to LEARN (okay maybe i understand the market but still..)
why finding new friends & traveling is TABOO
how we have to find ourselves and represent ourselves through our exterior image
why everyone is too fucking lazy to peel the mask away
why it matters so much to everyone if i keep my well paying job OR actually live for myself
i'm done living for everyone else
the more i do it
the more it breaks my heart more and more to realize the commodity ive become to everyone
im just another fashion trend lurking in and out of your closet
i'm just yr favorite toy that will be on the shelf soon enough
i'm sober yes, but happy? no. i was happier before. noone believes this. it was easier to numb all the shit rotting away at my miserable days.
yes i have friends too many though that i dislike
i just want a change of scenery
i don't want to be on long island anymore.
i was happy once you know
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