How do I commemorate today? By calling a 22 year old photographer and emailing a 28 year old Dartmouth salutatorian.
Yeah I still love this song.
Tell me our love story. Only, don’t use any words – just your mouth. Don’t you know that I’m tired of reading between the lines, finding fault in every unsaid syllable, blaming myself for all the consonants that aren’t quite right? Everything is nothing, until it isn’t. Nothing is everything, until something changes. I don’t care if it comes without warning, as long as it comes. Change. Something to hold on to. Even if it blows the world apart.
I lied when I said this was all I wanted. You must’ve known, must’ve understood. You always could feel the current of my heart. I never meant for either of us to drown in it, but here we are – waist-deep in chaos, trying to pretend that things are fine just the way they are.
It is what it is, and we are what we are. Only, we are more than…
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I’d breathe water
If you found me poetic for it
Every day a page is written in this outrageous book of life
It’s distressing how distressed these pages are
It doesn’t matter
So many stories are being written in parallel
Co-authors of love and destruction
Fucking and screaming
I would have created volumes with you
Libraries would have stood as monuments to us
But as it stands I’m just writing epitaphs to everything I’ve ever lost
And at what fucking cost
And it doesn’t matter
It doesn’t matter
It’s all in my head
And there it will die
Interwebs, I’m happy and that’s a weird state of being for me. I get sapped of all creativity when I’m like this, but fuck it, things are going really well right now. I started a new job this week and I kind of love it. It’s a billion times more interesting than my last job, I’m clinically stimulated, and I feel like my work actually has a purpose. It helps that the company is young, growing, and extremely interesting too.
And I hope to be moving soon, where I’ll be a near a happening little burb not unlike Burlington.
My real, physical, outside of my head world is just going really well. Inside my head is a different arena, and I continue to bother myself with garbage thoughts and continue to struggle with controlling them.
I haven’t written a poem in about a week. Part of that is down to just being actively busy with shit at work. There is the aspect of literally not having time to actually write, but the other part is just being mentally distracted as well, which may be a good thing.
I’ve been pretty obsessed with (the) Deftones as of late. Incredibly talented group of musicians.
The miles tick by
As the radio plays its tune
A wounded singer fades in and out
As verdant trees whip by
In time, the music tapers
Increasingly drowned by static
Volume turned up in desperation
A losing battle
Eventually the singer croons his last
Static having its way
Suddenly, a new voice rings
Unfamiliar, pleasant melodies
A new song beckons
Eager to please
Drink in these new sounds
Let your heart resonate
With these new vibrations
And leave sadness to the static
As miles fly by
Radio stations fade and melt
Into new songs, voices
And I wonder
If moving on
Was just as easy for you
Waist deep in wasted efforts, and so much shame
When music has never stopped being about you
And every song quietly screams your name
Tell me just what am I to do?
What is poetry
But an outlet for liars
To express their truth