I tried to make my intentions clear

but now I fear

I may have spoken out to soon

cause now that I want to get close to you

there's no way to explain

how my thoughts have changed

I don't know what got into me

but now I see

you in everything that I do

and the only thing I know is that this feelings new

I can't stand standing

always away from you

So darling when I take your hand

when I try to be your man

know that I am still your friend

please understand

that even after you've shredded my insides

and torn out my eyes
I will be alright

I'll move on with my life
I'll find peace, I'll be fine.
She's a killer with her silence
but it can't keep me up at night
forever, the sun must rise.

...to be continued when I find the right words to write. I guess creatively speaking it's alright to be constantly in flux emotionally. Content for writing comes easier; even if it is a little melodramatic, it still feels more meaningful than when I try to write out of boredom. So thank you world for keeping me on my toes.

Did you touch the sky today?

It is far too easy to ask questions without seeking answers. For it is searching for a truth that puts the curious at risk. He is in danger of being intrusive and obtuse. There is given no other option if he wishes to remove the shroud covering the answers he seeks.
...
I need to start going out more or something during the week. I don't feel comfortable being alone and I really want to meet somebody that I can connect with. I realize that connecting with somebody takes a lot of time and effort sometimes but I've totally forget how to develop relationships. I feel like I'm trying too hard a lot of the time, but then when I ease up I get the feeling that I seem disinterested. Thinking about how all of this is being processed chemically just fucks with me even more and I go into these thought loops until I have absolutely no idea what's going on anymore. All week I feel like I've been transfixed in one mindset and I can't seem to escape it. I hate part of myself right now which doesn't happen all that often.
I feel fingers around my throat and I think they are mine.

You are:
-The small pool of coffee at the bottom
of my thermos that I don't notice
as I carelessly dump it into my bag;
staining my pages light brown.
-Or those days I see the sun through my window
and eagerly dress for warm weather
then stubbornly neglect to adjust my outfit when I realize
winter is still baring its frozen teeth.
-Or the message on the debit machine that tells me I have insufficient funds.

You are something I've misjudged
but unlike any of these things there is no lesson, only curiosity.
You ARE and I AM, but never WE.
My understanding is that I know nothing at all,
though sometimes it is easy to forget.

I think I need to watch up again

I won't hold my breathe until I'm with you. These lungs hold nothing but the air of pointless whispers (where every word exhaled is another nail in the coffin door; so you can bury me in the past.) There is nothing except time for you and I. But every day I feel I'm holding back from standing up to this. And if you really know what's good for me, you'll stay the fuck away. I sense the pain that will come in a year if we attempt to make something out of the time from now till then and I can't pretend that it doesn't scare me. “No fear!” They shout like the sailor with the harpoon at the helm. But the beast lays waiting in the depths, a hollow corpse, teeth and bone wrapped in tough rubber flesh.

“Fear me!” The darkness screams until I believe it has already swallowed me. “In a contest of strength you are out matched. You stand alone on a broken ship and in the storm your love has drowned.”

But even as the waves and tails crash down to break my back; I will look upon the shore where happiness was found however fleeting. Those memories will float forever, golden shimmers in tempestuous surf.

I want to tell you that you're beautiful. Let you know that it is your divinity and subtle charm that have captured my mind. It is unrelenting - this longing to just be near you. I'll confess: the only way I can get to sleep is by assuring myself that I don't stand a chance. It's foolish and I know it. I doubt you'll ever agree with me calling you wonderful but we can disagree, that's life, I'm ok with that. I've been around people long enough to know that we don't change. We craft an artificial shell to protect and mask our insecurities but those are the nuances that make us human. Some people try to pawn their shells on the meek and eager, assuring them that it is the only way to mature. I say we burn everything down and stand naked face to face. First one to blush buys breakfast.

Fuck he's hopeless. Sheesh.

In the southwest pacific,
don't mind the specifics,
get with it, two meat heads
got lost in some deep shit.
The plane they was riding,
the cheap way of flying,
was gliding, engines down
then crashed into the fuckin ground.

But in an island jungle
only weak bitches crumble;
this is Robert and Arnold,
Robert and Arnold.
Strong enough to survive,
kickin ass, saving lives.
This is Robert and Arnold;
IT'S TROPICAL PUNCH.


...


first draft: intro to "Tropical Punch" a cartoon some friends are making.

Oh landlady landlady
you make such a fuss
as you hustle about
on the floors up above.

What's with all of this running of water
and banging and sawing
it sounds like a murdered someone
then chopped them up in your tub

or is all this ruckus
just you banging

Ow Kitty!