11.47 p.m.

let's be sappy for a moment.
can we
can we please.
can we please stop.
can we please stop
for a moment
and focus on this
it's monumental you see?
the first time this has ever been said
[drum roll please]
goddamit

I can't help it.
dizzy
hot and cold
brilliant
lit up
about to burst

I'm in love,

so
so
so
fucking in love.

headed home.

all at once but really not at all
she begins to shudder
to shake so violently they can feel it, rumbling in the ground beneath their feet
and they wonder from which belly of what monster this terrible trembling has come
unable to stop, she begins foaming at the mouth
seemingly lost behind her own eyes,
unable, unwilling to fight
so the terror continues
much to the dismay
of the rest of the passengers
on the bus.

lines slightly blurred

happening

and because it made me just fall in love
all over again.
hug me hard.
kiss me harder.

facebook photos.

because the best is when you realize that we haven't actually all been here before.
we were different people, we led completely different lives
irrelevant now in our rush to try and convince the world we are perfect.
and we are, I suppose, if you want us to be.
but we come from corners of the earth no one else has even heard of,
little pockets of fresh air in an otherwise stagnant town
we created the sunshine
we were the ones who dove into the deep end
we were the ones who took chances,
who stopped to laugh,
who thought about our futures and then promptly forgot how to act.
and these are the people who walk around now, so cautious,
so cautious so as not to offend, to have too much fun, to let their hair down.
these people who took pictures of passionate kisses,
who watched dirty films in their basements to initiate new ones to the club,
who lived like they gave a damn about being alive.
and we forget it,
stuck on these buses, looking like we'd rather be anywhere else but here.
because we were at one point, we were somewhere else and
lost in our memories now we tend to forget
it's far easier making news ones than reliving old ones.
but goddamn, everyone thinks it's just too hard.
and what, I ask, beg and plead of you,
what has to happen to make you remember not who you were,
but who you are?

v day

have you found it yet?

snow*rain

too insensitive to the flow of information
the access of words
the choice,

the imagined thought.
truth of the matter is it's far too difficult to have any idea
whatthehell anyone is saying nowadays anyway.

but still,
taking it personally seems to come as second nature.

[shed your skin]

flash.

a move.
amor.

fit.

spilled on to paper.
overflown, a missed destination.
over compensation for
what should have been.
what should have been?
but whispered words mean nothing compared to fear
the unknown, the known, objectives.
many, sporadic.
escaped on the wings of forgiveness
imprisoned otra vez - la misma cosa.
cyclical, you see.
all in this together, they shout. scream. parade, a giant cacophony of songs
thunder, bells -
those soft, quiet ones no one pays attention to
all screech when left to their own devices.
nasty, brutish, short.
are we the spawn of our environments?

have you forgotten how to breathe?
relax. fall down. sink into solitude?
be in tune.
underground.
sitting at the edge of the atmosphere looking down into abyss? freedom?
death.
a terrifying silence. those words still left, as breaths.
tumble.

10.10 a.m.

move over morning.
I'm writing the story now.