real human being
here, my hand, in front
though it is not the same.
real, still mine
but the molecules have all changed.
Your Gun Is So Hot, Your Gun Is So Sexy, Your Gun Is So Hot, Your Gun Is So Sexy, Your Gun Is So Hot, Your Gun Is So Sexy
eyes closed keep walking forward
it all cracks eventually
As a youth I was highly aware of others. This innate awareness does not suit the tumultuous storm of a teenage mind, I began to suppress it. If I seemed aloof or distant,I thought others would be more intrigued by me. And sometimes they were. But atwhat cost to my identity? We all put on different masks, practice differentpersonas trying to find our place. Did this pass? Yes. As an adult, I amstill highly aware of others but now I want it. I want replace my feelings withothers. Is your pain the same as mine? Your happiness? Your peace?
There. In my moment.Focusing. Breathing. Being. COOL. I'm still observing... everything. Thesky, the stars, the sea, the leaves, the people around me, the day to day, insand outs, the sounds each train makes, each subtle movement around me. Isee. I hear. Pivotal moments enhanced by just being new Lust, love, like, obsess over. Did the idea oflove blanket these moments, forcing them to into ethereal wondermentvs. reality. These moments were mine, like they were yours. I linger in patchworkthreads of my past lives. It felt nice to fall, escape, lose myself backthen, no it felt fucking great. I guess I've always been somewhat willing to leanback in life, while crawling towards another body in my bed. Skin melding together,uncomfortably hot but un-wiling to peel away. A dear friend once said herfavorite thing to do was to lie on hot cement and melt. The blastingsummer heat turning LA sidewalks into frying pans and us sunny-side up. Nowthat felt fucking damn good, while I melt away my teenage heart. Or maybe thecopious amount of weed helped too.
a swirling of light and dark fluttering emotions, a glorious mess of life...
do you like Monet?
but even if it's black and white
there's still confusion underneath
Monet makes me think of clueless
it's really not that deep
"nothing but the fine things in life"
the day things change forever
bleary eyes stare into the sunburst horizon line
conflicting sadness consumes in random moments still
growth with pain is inevitable
embrace the opposition
today, tonight, tomorrow
an offering to mother nature on bare knees
bruised and bitten my sacrifice complete
with this agreement to be better
now I can rest at peace
cold day in Maine
my gut felt it coming
you're not mine to have.
consumed by you
my heart dismissed our inevitable state,
a casual pleasure of disappointment.