(no subject)
i just forgot everything i was going to write in here.
that isn't a weak smile, that's the painful realization that you're still here
where's my camera?
i'm young
coffee doesn't fill your stomach
just like warm weather in january make you feel closer to anywhere else,
like mexico.
someday i'm painting the town flourescent colors while it sleeps
people get nicer as they age because being on the defensive for most of your life gets tiring
i've figured a place to get volunteer hours
sometimes i wish they'd really lost my luggage forever so i wouldn't have to lose it myself
other times i wish people would tell me what i'm really begging for
i'm watching food rot in my kitchen and starving
"why go away when we can just rent the movie?"
i feel like i never have time to think
and when i do, i waste the time.
i've been taught the american habit of treating time like my own property, something to waste, gain, take advtange or get ahead of, to lose.
i treat you like time
give me a little time.
i feel sick for ten minutes at a time;
my mouth starts watering, i can't see past the headache i've been avoiding all day, i want to throw up and make it go away, i start sweating, my ribs hurt, my legs give in, i'm crouched in the corner of a bathroom far away from here, why? because it reminds me of home, new years came and i took too many ibuprofen, i climbed to the roof and held my hands above my head, i wanted to open my lungs to the air around me, i wanted the humidity to suffocate me and drown my detatchment, i wanted to tell you to listen to the wind because it sounded like the static that used to litter our midnight phonecalls, my temples pounded a rhythm i used to know but now was killing me, i reach with shaking hands for other shaking hands or at least a cigarette, my nerves colliding in sequence to the street lamps blowing out one by one by now i'm biting my lips harder than i bit the food on my plate for dinner, letting it slide down my throat and knowing it'd surface again, impoverished and beautiful, my lungs collapsed at the echo- coming from the top of a radio tower- reaching me, a frequency we didn't even know existed, your voice reverberating and exceeding my racing pulse, straining, leaving me gasping for air at the finish line and wondering where you've gone and is the view different from there?
i told you to listen to the wind
i tried to tell you, i tried to imply everything.
who am i talking to?
that isn't a weak smile, that's the painful realization that you're still here
where's my camera?
i'm young
coffee doesn't fill your stomach
just like warm weather in january make you feel closer to anywhere else,
like mexico.
someday i'm painting the town flourescent colors while it sleeps
people get nicer as they age because being on the defensive for most of your life gets tiring
i've figured a place to get volunteer hours
sometimes i wish they'd really lost my luggage forever so i wouldn't have to lose it myself
other times i wish people would tell me what i'm really begging for
i'm watching food rot in my kitchen and starving
"why go away when we can just rent the movie?"
i feel like i never have time to think
and when i do, i waste the time.
i've been taught the american habit of treating time like my own property, something to waste, gain, take advtange or get ahead of, to lose.
i treat you like time
give me a little time.
i feel sick for ten minutes at a time;
my mouth starts watering, i can't see past the headache i've been avoiding all day, i want to throw up and make it go away, i start sweating, my ribs hurt, my legs give in, i'm crouched in the corner of a bathroom far away from here, why? because it reminds me of home, new years came and i took too many ibuprofen, i climbed to the roof and held my hands above my head, i wanted to open my lungs to the air around me, i wanted the humidity to suffocate me and drown my detatchment, i wanted to tell you to listen to the wind because it sounded like the static that used to litter our midnight phonecalls, my temples pounded a rhythm i used to know but now was killing me, i reach with shaking hands for other shaking hands or at least a cigarette, my nerves colliding in sequence to the street lamps blowing out one by one by now i'm biting my lips harder than i bit the food on my plate for dinner, letting it slide down my throat and knowing it'd surface again, impoverished and beautiful, my lungs collapsed at the echo- coming from the top of a radio tower- reaching me, a frequency we didn't even know existed, your voice reverberating and exceeding my racing pulse, straining, leaving me gasping for air at the finish line and wondering where you've gone and is the view different from there?
i told you to listen to the wind
i tried to tell you, i tried to imply everything.
who am i talking to?