roads
i should have not taken the step to the edge of my head,
because if it were, i could not have said that this is what,
My head is colliding, and sliding, inside itself. my hands,
oh, my hands. and i wish that they could tell the story in short.
you see, this is a long winded plan, a road upon which i must
be standing. it started on a springy nice day. with a picnic packed
and a hand in a hand.
i wish that my heart was softer around then, more moldable, into
confined spaces. maybe then i could have ignored, maybe then
i could have delayed.
the times when young people cry, are the most raw of raw,
and this happened a lot.
it was five nights nice, and 500 plus or take, raw.
i was selfish, i was reacting, i was dumb. and there was no luck
to pack away in my pocket.
i didnt carry any fortune cookies, which may have written the ways,
but no.
im back at the drawing board now, two summers later. im sixteen years young and
a handful of flowers dead in a row. i could have thrown it away. i did throw it away.
i always forget that part. its not like i ever meant for things to end up the way they did, its not like i wanted to feel so
vulnerable.
im not aware of things when they happen, only when i am reminded of them days after days. and then only in a slight manner, with one slight detail dipped or tipped away.
i like it when things line up. when my words seem right, for the moment. and that is a beautiful moment. the one i realize
that you have hurt. you have run from something
to another.
i guess that was brave. if you think so. but i wont call it that. I never tried to hurt you. I never wanted this to happen.
But it did, and thats the problem. You have hurt me. You HAVE hurt me.
and i ran.
i was brave. and i think so. i know so.
++++++++++
i ran to something in myself. i ran into my own image, proved to it, and some kind of thing.
it wasnt as intimidating as it sounds.
it wasnt as revitalizing as it sounds.
but it was enough for me, to then look in the mirror and replace your face, with some kind of mold
of perfection.
ive gotten close, and sometimes that takes my breath away. how perfect it is. how insane i feel when i wake up,
and i know ive got it good.
roads to distant places separate my thoughts, they make it so that i can become more leveled with the earth. it is as if i could pound out the rhythms, and then make them repeat. it is as if the stars were the images that could burn a hole into anything, and make it alright. i am going away soon, to see tall bulky buildings. lights that stream frever into darkness. and i will record. i will record my thoughts, and not block up.
i wish, i wish you were here.
at some point i know that i have to stop my thinking. and go into a sort of hiding, a hobbit hole. on some cold nights i am hoping to strangle the blankets and sheets, in hopes that maybe squeezing the life out of them, will bring the life of you closer to me.
if i could come up with the sum of my entire brain, in three words, i would jump off of a building. i wish that i could, not so that i could jump off of a building. maybe just to share more of me with you. you with me, as well.
and look at us now, standing in front of eachother, soaking up eachother, in perfect. time. and im looking farther, and singing along you know. i am, going to take a long time for this, to settle.
and i hope thats alright with you.
this is the beginning. im lying face down, flat, to sponge up my life, into perfect, perfect,
because if it were, i could not have said that this is what,
My head is colliding, and sliding, inside itself. my hands,
oh, my hands. and i wish that they could tell the story in short.
you see, this is a long winded plan, a road upon which i must
be standing. it started on a springy nice day. with a picnic packed
and a hand in a hand.
i wish that my heart was softer around then, more moldable, into
confined spaces. maybe then i could have ignored, maybe then
i could have delayed.
the times when young people cry, are the most raw of raw,
and this happened a lot.
it was five nights nice, and 500 plus or take, raw.
i was selfish, i was reacting, i was dumb. and there was no luck
to pack away in my pocket.
i didnt carry any fortune cookies, which may have written the ways,
but no.
im back at the drawing board now, two summers later. im sixteen years young and
a handful of flowers dead in a row. i could have thrown it away. i did throw it away.
i always forget that part. its not like i ever meant for things to end up the way they did, its not like i wanted to feel so
vulnerable.
im not aware of things when they happen, only when i am reminded of them days after days. and then only in a slight manner, with one slight detail dipped or tipped away.
i like it when things line up. when my words seem right, for the moment. and that is a beautiful moment. the one i realize
that you have hurt. you have run from something
to another.
i guess that was brave. if you think so. but i wont call it that. I never tried to hurt you. I never wanted this to happen.
But it did, and thats the problem. You have hurt me. You HAVE hurt me.
and i ran.
i was brave. and i think so. i know so.
++++++++++
i ran to something in myself. i ran into my own image, proved to it, and some kind of thing.
it wasnt as intimidating as it sounds.
it wasnt as revitalizing as it sounds.
but it was enough for me, to then look in the mirror and replace your face, with some kind of mold
of perfection.
ive gotten close, and sometimes that takes my breath away. how perfect it is. how insane i feel when i wake up,
and i know ive got it good.
roads to distant places separate my thoughts, they make it so that i can become more leveled with the earth. it is as if i could pound out the rhythms, and then make them repeat. it is as if the stars were the images that could burn a hole into anything, and make it alright. i am going away soon, to see tall bulky buildings. lights that stream frever into darkness. and i will record. i will record my thoughts, and not block up.
i wish, i wish you were here.
at some point i know that i have to stop my thinking. and go into a sort of hiding, a hobbit hole. on some cold nights i am hoping to strangle the blankets and sheets, in hopes that maybe squeezing the life out of them, will bring the life of you closer to me.
if i could come up with the sum of my entire brain, in three words, i would jump off of a building. i wish that i could, not so that i could jump off of a building. maybe just to share more of me with you. you with me, as well.
and look at us now, standing in front of eachother, soaking up eachother, in perfect. time. and im looking farther, and singing along you know. i am, going to take a long time for this, to settle.
and i hope thats alright with you.
this is the beginning. im lying face down, flat, to sponge up my life, into perfect, perfect,