| wake [whichever you mean] |
[21 May 2007|09:27pm] |
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mood |
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 sleepy |
] |
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music |
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the whole world reminds me of you~thirsty merc |
] |
Test the water
Only daughter
Of a son pushed into the night
And you’re killing me
Softy, slowly
Fucking fish out of water this time.
It’s like abuse
Blue-black bruise
And rhyming.
And I know
I’m on my own
So make up a plan
And shes got the ticket
Its an inch away from violence
So close I’m screaming
Pure outraged silence
And bleeding, can’t turn you this way
I hate your cheeks
And your nerve
I want some help
A smiling nurse
Would do anyday
Weigh my heart
You should stay the night
Okay?
And they fly tight
Aging never
And just beginning to feel
All this
Endeavour
And wake
And wake again
Maybe I’m a waif [or a whale]
I’d like that
Swimming endlessly
Possibilities
Forthcoming you see
So fill the paper cups
Throw saved drafts away
And dance
And turn, this way
Withdrawn agony
Drop it
Drop the cup
Its gone
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| Outdoor Cure |
[08 Apr 2007|07:40pm] |
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mood |
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 cold |
] |
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music |
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notice~gomez |
] |
remember when i tried,
upon a tree to fly,
and simple, honest gained
love that lasted age
and the torrents of life
that created mine.
this simple, heart wrenching
cure can't stop this now
and break the kept vow
of aged, heart-aching
decision making silence,
you loose you die.
but you get this,
one last prayer
soft baby breath
kiss goodnight
for this is the last,
long last sight.
you hear me
the same low statured green
innocent gleam of years to come
soft willow tree boughs.
we were born for this
SO WALK RIGHT OUT!
poised and daring, racing
simple, oh so simple you stare
but youre one step,
one step! too far away
and.... relax
take this, curious pact
a living sum of breaking
picture taking
POSE
LIVE
CRUDE
humoured life, laughing.
you cant deny it's
take on life, its useless
and in the air tie
me to this modest kite
i want to live, just one more time
and look at my hard work gained
self assuring pain
of revolutions on rainy days
soul embarking
senseless cliches.
of life giving air
i swear, this never
meant to go this far
into your own lost life,
creating mine.
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| I Will Follow You Into The Dark~ Death Cab For Cutie |
[07 Apr 2007|10:51pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 blah |
] |
| [ |
music |
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leg of lamb~QOTSA |
] |
Love of mine some day you will die,
But I'll be close behind.
I'll follow you into the dark.
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white;
Just our hands clasped so tight,
Waiting for the hint of a spark.
If heaven and hell decide,
That they both are satisfied,
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs:
If there's no one beside you,
When your soul embarks;
Then I'll follow you into the dark.
In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule,
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black,
And I held my tongue as she told me,
"Son, fear is the heart of love."
So I never went back.
If heaven and hell decide,
That they both are satisfied,
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs:
If there's no one beside you,
When your soul embarks;
Then I'll follow you into the dark.
You and me have seen everything to see;
From Bangkok to Calgary.
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down;
The time for sleep is now.
It's nothing to cry about,
'Cause we'll hold each other soon.
The blackest of rooms.
If heaven and hell decide,
That they both are satisfied,
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs:
If there's no one beside you,
When your soul embarks;
Then I'll follow you into the dark.
Then I'll follow you into the dark.
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| shaking up the keys |
[07 Apr 2007|10:40pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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blah |
] |
| [ |
music |
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addicted to bass~puretone |
] |
gothic fairytales are what i grew up on
calming, drink up eyes soothing, cleaning.
working quietly i miss that feeling of being
inside my own skin, clean addicted CLEAN!
i crave, i draw, i think i feel i IMAGINE.
in the old garden the stories behind bloomed and blossomed
you never believed me but i see, them,
ghosts and fairies, how do i know? because,
i see you, dont i?
hitching, you are no more than an illusion
a queen of glass and paper skirts.
your only clean in my imagination
and thats the world as i know it.
thats where you belong.
treading softly in the grass,
the good sheppard the good life my simple namesake
my simple mistake gleams like a syringe
a god-damn syringe
in my little feet, maybe this grass isnt so soft.
i want to invite you to this scandal
to live breathe and be a part of these streets
where fairytales are made
but the music leads us no where happy
and credits roll any way
happy [n]ever after, i do i dream but to see
is to think is to believe. but, to see me
first you must believe, because without you
i simply cannot be me.
becoming me, maybe slightly disturbed,
i am these streets of hopscotch and spilt wine
pretend love and letters, perfume pushed into the grit.
they are just as clean as me and my
addictions, strings, stories, scandals
tainted, with this unmistakable clean.
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| Sampson~Regina Spektor |
[10 Mar 2007|04:40pm] |
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mood |
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bored |
] |
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music |
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stockholm syndrome~blink 182 |
] |
You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
I have to go, I have to go
Your hair was long when we first met
Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
He ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
And history books forgot about us and the bible didn't mention us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once
You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light
Your hair was long when we first met
Samson came to my bed
Told me that my hair was red
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed
Oh I cut his hair myself one night
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light
And he told me that I'd done alright
and kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light
and he kissed me 'til the mornin' light
Samson went back to bed
not much hair left on his head
Ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed
Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down
Yeah we couldn't destroy a single one
And history books forgot about us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once
You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first
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[17 Feb 2007|10:27pm] |
i want to see what it is i hear every night
she had come up to me at school and asked, dragged me away weird looks from friends.
i just tell them its from footy, bmx-ing skating, fell down the stairs.
but you cant lie to someone with her eyes
she lives next door, the only one breaking the barrier of our townhouses. even though everyone hears.
cold cold senior toilets
i want to see
show me
now
why cant i let her go
theres nothing blocking the door but a parent/child like taboo.
i couldnt walk right
i swear i tried, but i couldnt.
long time dead and going nowhere fast.
i wont forget those eyes, she asked, questioningly, never like she was attacking.
why cant i let her go
shes gone.
we sat on the ocean maybe two months later, all bruises fades, dues paid.
she said, as the tide engulfed us to the waist as we sat on the sand
i want the ocean
i tried working out whether she meant it litterally or metaphorically
i want you
was all i could come up with
[nothing]
i need you
i tried again
she laughed, a sound ill never forget
you have me
she said,
i tried to work out whether she meant it or was just trying to make me feel better
but its not entirely fair. you can have me, but ill never have the ocean, even though i can feel it, wrapped around my entire body, in my tiniest crevices. places you would never feel a human. ways you could never feel a human.
needless to say, i showed her that day in the bathrooms.
and she never let me forget it,
not in an attacking way or anything.
more like a questioning way
why cant i let you go.
yeah, shes having a baby in maybe six months.
im 17, and i dont mind one bit.
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| you can see shes a beautiful girl |
[13 Jan 2007|09:04pm] |
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mood |
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worried |
] |
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music |
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im not dead~pink |
] |
shes a beautiful girl lost in translation
trainspotting her way to the end
of her past present and future life.
she's stuck in the sleepless boat
her dreams are gone but one
"please just say i'll live again."
excusing dropping discords, she laughs
even though she is dying.
draining, sensless dementia settles in.
you know its bad when dementia settles in.
but despite the odds she wants to live forever,
and a day, past the days of war
to prove that it is still possible to love
and despite all odds, be loved in return.
why did things mean so much to her?
why couldn't she let go?
memories aside she is draining.
she is nothing, thats why.
she filled art books with the time of day
ignored plastic surgery and miracle creams
supported the separation of church and state
listened to palindromes, watched pantimimes
danced right up until she was sixty five
why did she have to go and mean so much to me?
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| love is profound. and profoundly annoying. |
[11 Jan 2007|11:36pm] |
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mood |
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 complacent |
] |
| [ |
music |
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say it like you mean it~matchbook romance |
] |
why does love constantly override my future?
i wouldnt say that it does. you have electricity that lights people up. and it makes them feel. maybe not love or maybe not happy. but you have that effect. you let it override your future becuase you worry about it effecting your future, where in fact it is your future. the effect you will have on people is your future.
what about love is never credit for the past, as in, love is never going to do anything if your stuck in the past, so forgive and forget and start for the future.
i would agree with that but you need past for your future like you are never an original being you are the combined effort of different influences. so thats what love will be. dont forget the past, just, dont live in it. no regrets. theres no point pushing pieces of a relationshp as far as they can go if its going no where. love should be fun. and compromise. experimentation, anatomy. not what could or couldnt have been. instead of thinking about what could have been, it should be used to influence what you will do in your future. use your past wisely, and it will use you well in it.
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| step one, you say we need to talk |
[01 Jan 2007|11:55pm] |
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mood |
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alone |
] |
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music |
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how to save a life~ the fray |
] |
Come September I know you’ll remember the conjurer trapped behind the bars of old lights, the green grocer and his open orange blossom. I gave you one last year, I gave you a look to go with it. Ours was a funny sort of love. Like pins and needles in the feet or local anaesthetic to the brain but not to the heart. And we cried. I cant ever remember crying so little, yet so much at the same time. The paper cuts were never that deep and just for fun, I really did watch us wind down for years.
i dont know what to do with it. it changes interest, like the begining doesnt fit with the end...
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| kiss me, im a radical |
[29 Dec 2006|05:40pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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okay |
] |
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music |
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beat your heart out~the distillers |
] |
how long has it been since maybe october, since you were last sober,
in a time of all enlightened sight,
and toxic waste flooded my veins
and i knew that this was the night.
thousands of notches that dotted the pavement,
so close i could see from my place,
i was a non-stop riot, kissable and quiet,
shutter clicking softly capturing grace.
words printed lovingly on the walls, my memory recalls
a place of all eternal light,
of toxic fumes and a fast burning fuse,
i grew tired of being polite.
i lost our bond, went out and beyond
these sheets my legs got stuck to.
if ive learnt it so far, on my fucking guitar,
ill claim that its just overdue.
so i'll let you eat breakfast in your favourite dress,
in the same table, same café, dont faint.
refusing to vote and a little love note,
i would say she's a fucking saint.
but she never eats and she wanders the streets
looking for a place to call home.
give her a few days and a couple of ways,
but she'll still have that sickening syndrome.
listen to the melody line, let our fingers entwine,
and i will show you the way.
ill feel like a radical, full anatomical,
still cursed with this terrible decay.
'till the last drop, train stop,
i'll tell you every last word.
i'll tell you her story in all its glory,
and together, we will make peace of this miserable world.
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| cancer~my chemical romance |
[25 Dec 2006|11:25pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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gloomy |
] |
| [ |
music |
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i dont love you~my chemical romance |
] |
Turn away,
If you could get me a drink
Of water cause my lips are chapped and faded
Call my aunt Marie
Help her gather all my things
and bury me
in all my favorite colors,
my sisters and my brothers, still,
I will not kiss you,
cause the hardest part of this,
is leaving you.
Now turn away,
cause I'm awful just to see
cause all my hair's abandoned all my body,
Oh, my agony,
know that I will never marry,
Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo
but counting down the days to go.
It just ain't living
And I just hope you know
That if you say (if you say)
Goodbye today (goodbye today)
I'd ask you to be true (cause I'd ask you to be true)
Cause the hardest part of this
Is leaving you...
Cause the hardest part of this
Is leaving you...
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from ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) topsy_turviness |
[18 Dec 2006|10:48am] |
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mood |
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calm |
] |
I suppose it's odd for a girl woman my age or of any age to be so comfortable with herself and have as much self-knowledge as I do. I know who I am. I have so much insight and awareness to myself that I've had a personality psychologist say that it's "odd" and that I'm "odd."
They say you dislike things that other people are or do that infact you also are you do but you don't recognize it. I recognize it. I know my hypocracy. I am aware of my annoying habits and tendencies. Does it affect me? Not really.
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| to make up for the last entry. |
[09 Dec 2006|06:35am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 bouncy |
] |
| [ |
music |
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let it snow |
] |
i present to you...drabbles
She whispered though salty tears she wished were sanguine. she patted the six week old lie that sat in her stomach, gentle placid blood running through those veins. She went home and listened to the tapes of feedback, looking for his voice, hoping for a little reassurance. With the furnace burning gentle placid gasoline she felt almost safe. Sleeping brought gentle screams to life as she watched him with his grey ash cancer sitting between his lips. heart beats and blood dripped in time to the backing sound track. As his eyes snapped open, hers closed for the last time.
She went home and got high. Showering when high was an interesting experience. She could feel every last drop on her shivering skin. Life felt unfinished, slowly being devoured by mistaken stares of life possibly worth living. Jabbing blue ball point pens and stretching steel guitar strings around her arms did nothing but to expose her fears. She played with her docile morbid ideas and ran them though her lacklusture eyes in the mirror. He was trying to turn her away from her whoredom and paper burning days but he wouldn’t be able to stop her with a crowbar now.
they take alot more effort that first precieved.
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| intoxication, plural. |
[04 Dec 2006|09:19am] |
| [ |
mood |
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amused |
] |
| [ |
music |
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ana's song [open fire]~silverchair |
] |
we will praise dellirium, like we praise the local strip club
we will shed our skin and dance on stage to flashing lights and pulsing music.
i will change my love song so its no longer about you
because im sick of trying, and i no longer see the point.
tell me, hows the pay when your all alone, slowly being intoxicated?
bijoutory neckalces left on the dresser, full of hello's and goodbyes.
late night hellos from people you dont want to hear them from
and wicked candy eyes that you could just, drink, up.
you wont get your hands too far down my pants, or up my baby doll dress,
your too intoxicated, like a fucking drunken butterfly, grasping,
for the light, trailing winged fingers covered with dust across the sky.
tomorrow ill wake up and say goodbye, leave with a mind full of clarity
and a mouth full of abuse, but ill let your wife have the honours,
for what good would a relationship be without the negligence of infidelity.
a child in infancy, a parent teacher comittee, a forgotten city.
trust doesnt come without truth, and to tell you the truth...
i no longer see the childhhod joy in carnival rides or,
you.
sooner or later they will all be gone, every last tainted memory
of every wrong decision we made, being alone pays well for me.
every night, i get intoxicated by the bijoutory scent of jasmine
from silky underwear and being caught actually being smitten.
it pays me with my life, with youth and clarity, alcohol i could just, drink, up.
the words you say, the words i yell and the cars that crash.
the dolls torn apart for something much bigger then them,
then us, then our universes falling down our cheeks.
now i say hello, just the same as i say goodbye, too many circles i think
too many late night rides, not enough love, and so it goes...
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| SMASHING PUMPKINS~ BULLET WITH BUTTERFLY WINGS |
[03 Dec 2006|12:49am] |
| [ |
mood |
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bored |
] |
| [ |
music |
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how do you love~ collective soul |
] |
The world is a vampire, sent to drain
Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames
And what do I get, for my pain
Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game
Even though I know-I suppose I'll show
All my cool and cold-like old job
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Now I'm naked, nothing but an animal
But can you fake it, for just one more show
And what do you want, I want to change
And what have you got
When you feel the same
Even though I know-I suppose I'll show
All my cool and cold-like old job
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Tell me I'm the only one
Tell me there's no other one
Jesus was the only son
Tell me I'm the chosen one
Jesus was the only son for you
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
And I still believe that I cannot be saved
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| first post to the ones who gave me the name of my journal |
[02 Dec 2006|09:43am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 giggly |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
come on, come on~little birdy |
] |
DRESDEN DOLLS, BANK OF BOSTON BEAUTY QUEEN
also the namesake of my other journal,
I've tried dolls that were guaranteed sixteen or under, none were very exciting
sorta like a laugh track or whacking off, it gets you off
but it’s just not the real thing
it's been decades since my pit days
but i haven't shaken it
i sit there like an idiot
still wrapped up in the old punk protocol
and dreaming that the teenagers will think that i’m a radical
and i still wait for the bus to come where the high school got torn down
still expecting to find true love among the skateboarders hanging out
in back of the bank in my hometown
all this talk and no action’s got me stiff from the tit to the bone
so, i'm living in la-la land, but at least i'm not living at home
same old catcall, same old chemicals
same old thrills- stealing stockings from the shopping mall
its easy enough to grow the fuck up, happy with the rough cut
nobody's in here for a diamond in the rough
but i still wait for my mom to come and pick me up at holly’s house
ten years after they cashed it in to make a multi-level parking lot for a seven-eleven and burger king
and i’ve got cryptographs, i’ve got all the phones tapped
it's just proof enough
it was indisputable
love’s not good enough, i want photographs
something that will teach me my arithmetic at last...
better get your kids, i’m on the loose again
and getting more ridiculous
the more i think i ought to get my mind out of the gutter
(it’s getting dangerous, amanda, you are old enough to be the poor kid's mother)
my own private highway from the cradle to the grave
i save a bundle skipping middle age and saturdays
and i still wait for the cops to come where the station since burned down
still expecting they’ll pick me up for all the sins i committed in the back of a banged-up pickup truck
i’ve got autographs, backstage passes and leather jacket back patches up the
ask me anything i’ve got evidence
single serving saccharine packets dripping black with lipstick kisses
i still wait for the bus to come where the high school got torn down
still expecting to find true love among the skateboarders hanging out
in back of the bank in my home-
i’m no pederast, just an interest
thank you,
but
i’m capable
of getting up
and getting dressed
love’s not good enough, i want photographs
something that will teach me common sense..
time and time again
i think i'll head downtown again
oh god
sixteen
no, i’m ten
i’m seventeen
and a Bank of Boston Beauty Queen
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