things i missed that i didn't miss
While you were holding hands with Halloween, 2004, I don't miss you.
Every coffee shop closes; that's a book that I don't feel I need to know the ending to, I've witnessed the wrath of the epilogue. Los Angeles was my home.
I was circuit-bent feelings and you were static; still clinging to old places wrought with hollow impressions of the past and future.
Your expectations crumbled beneath a sea of faces that you were sick at the sight of, but too scared of your isolation to push past the crush. You were still adolescent then, dumbed-down with too much emotion and no good way to express it; no one to tell that you really trusted to take care of what you held inside.
I don't miss the nervous tension or the weak stomach all the characters gave me for so long. It's funny how we all felt so suspicious and insecure the we couldn't get along, but how we clung together! I can't say I'm sad I missed the crumbling of our small side of the city. All the memories you try to piece together as fondly as you can that just jolted you into nauseous tension at the thought, at the time.
2005, while you were settling for less, I was exploring the world.
The lights of the white heat pulsated to a beat and timing that will never be more perfect than it was at the moment I saw the watchtower over my fair city.
She treated me far more kind than the gutter I'd been laying in with matted hair, dirty fingernails and the corpses of Kurt Cobain's sad descendants; this was the stars.
I turned rain into redemption; I felt my soul exhale and surround my skin.
I radiated with purpose and righteous intentions. I was alone, but everything
around me felt as comfortable as the arms cradling me before I could stand on my own two feet.
Here it was, while you were still struggling in power plays for love, drugs, money, sacrifice and mediocrity; I was electric to the marrow.
Every coffee shop closes; that's a book that I don't feel I need to know the ending to, I've witnessed the wrath of the epilogue. Los Angeles was my home.
I was circuit-bent feelings and you were static; still clinging to old places wrought with hollow impressions of the past and future.
Your expectations crumbled beneath a sea of faces that you were sick at the sight of, but too scared of your isolation to push past the crush. You were still adolescent then, dumbed-down with too much emotion and no good way to express it; no one to tell that you really trusted to take care of what you held inside.
I don't miss the nervous tension or the weak stomach all the characters gave me for so long. It's funny how we all felt so suspicious and insecure the we couldn't get along, but how we clung together! I can't say I'm sad I missed the crumbling of our small side of the city. All the memories you try to piece together as fondly as you can that just jolted you into nauseous tension at the thought, at the time.
2005, while you were settling for less, I was exploring the world.
The lights of the white heat pulsated to a beat and timing that will never be more perfect than it was at the moment I saw the watchtower over my fair city.
She treated me far more kind than the gutter I'd been laying in with matted hair, dirty fingernails and the corpses of Kurt Cobain's sad descendants; this was the stars.
I turned rain into redemption; I felt my soul exhale and surround my skin.
I radiated with purpose and righteous intentions. I was alone, but everything
around me felt as comfortable as the arms cradling me before I could stand on my own two feet.
Here it was, while you were still struggling in power plays for love, drugs, money, sacrifice and mediocrity; I was electric to the marrow.