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Novel Bound by Shoe StringsThe plot is unknown,
The future left untold,
But you won't write alone,
we'll just let it all unfold...
In this novel bound by shoe strings,
we will write only the best scenes,
Tear apart the suffering,
and carry ourselves into infinity.
Happily ever after is, in fact, real,
but happiness is only one thing you feel,
we must cope with how we must heal,
and strive for the everlasting serenity,
Love is but a fairytale,
A ship that will forever sail,
an emotion, that will never fail,
In this novel, I just wrote a calamity.
The plot is well known,
The future is now told,
and we wrote it all in stone,
a stone that is always hard and cold...
My Idea of PerfectionYou know I show my interest in the things that you say,
and everyday you greet me with a smile stretched across your face,
I like the color of your hair under fluorescent lighting,
and the difference between when we argue, and when we're fighting.
You put your hand in my back pocket as we walk along,
You tell me sometimes it doesn't feel right, but I know that it doesn't feel wrong...
The sky will never be grey...
so long as you choose to stay,
The sun will sometimes shine bright,
and the sky will never change to night,
so long as you choose to stay.
You think that your laugh isn't very easy on the ears,
you know I find it to be just about the cutest thing I've heard in years,
I like the way you say my name, unsure of how to say it,
You know your way around a guitar, and I love the way that you play it,
Remember the time that you slept in my bed all day long?
This is just my idea of perfection, and I know nothing can ever go wrong...
The sky will never be grey...
so long as you choose
I Need MoreMy love, why do you try to hide
the smile that keeps me warm?
I need more than just the cold.
Sweet love that has disappeared,
where do you go when you feel worn?
I need more than what feels old.
Brother that I think so dearly of,
why do you do what you do?
I need more than what I'm told.
Dear one that thinks highly of me,
why can't you tell me the truth?
I need more than I can hold.
Metaphorical AngelsThere's a color for every season,
A mood set by the regularity.
There's a truth behind every reason,
you just get it metaphorically.
You fly like metaphorical angels,
soaring high in the heavens,
yet you're so down to earth.
You're the mood of this season,
Sad, but happy to see it's you.
I'd call you, but I don't have a reason,
and I don't think I'd get through...
You're like the metaphorical angels,
when you're around, the stress lessens,
you're just so down to earth...
for any of it to be true.
You can't say that you don't
smell the smells of this season.
You can't say that you won't
give me at least one good reason,
for turning out to be better than I had imagined.
You're turning out to be better than I had imagined.
You say you're no metaphorical angel.
Tell no lies and ask no questions,
Bring me down to Earth.
I'm only speaking metaphorically...
Stylized PortraitsYou love him more than he'll ever know.
But didn't you say that about the other guy three days ago?
How emotions change when we don't really know them.
Oh, how it must be to live in a world
where one relationship only lasts a week.
I love you, baby.
You say the sky is my limit,
so long as I stay within it.
No one lives past the surface.
No one lives where we know they don't live.
But what else is out there?
I keep secrets closer than any enemy or friend.
I keep them safe inside, where no one can get to them.
You can take all of my friends and enemies,
but I've always got my secrets.
And you don't know them.
Stylized portraits that portray the evil as the innocent.
The quality of the art is not always a matter of opinion, but a matter of intent.
Did you make this to express yourself?
Was it as shallow as most? Or was it deep like some?
I never know what's really going on.
Just My OpinionYou're the curse that slips from his lips,
and skin against my finger tips,
You cloud my spectacles,
And forgive me if I say it,
but you are the being of perfection.
Just my opinion.
Sometimes I'd lay by myself,
to get the feeling of being alone.
I would randomly pinch myself,
to make sure I was alive.
I still don't believe it.
Just my opinion.
I never met anyone with the same name as me,
until I worked in retail serving the old women.
He was tall, skinny, and not too handsome.
Darker, maybe latino.
His name was written on his mechanics' uniform.
The "O" in the middle stared at me like an open eye.
He wrote me a check, which I needed his license for.
I got to double check, to make sure he wasn't a "fake",
Like the ones I'd found on myspace.
They want to be different.
All of them want to be different.
Just my opinion.
The decade that served me most was the decade I loved the most.
I like my years like I like my men:
Fun and short.
It's already twenty-ten.
I always hated the number 0,
UnderstandShe spoke in terms I couldn't quite understand,
She told me she understood the likes of socialism,
And how capitalism will make our classes more divided.
She spoke in terms I wouldn't quite understand,
She told me how everything is unfair under our "Conservatives",
And how they don't care about anyone but the rich.
She spoke in terms that I knew weren't right,
But she made me feel good to believe what I believe.
I didn't feel self-conscious, or the least bit worried,
I knew that somehow she couldn't quite understand.
Wendy Was My GirlWendy was my girl. She wore her hair in a bun. She kept her natural blond hair, and when it was grey, she kept it that way, too. She liked the cold, and she liked the snow. She never liked to get a tan. She took her shoes off at the door. She never asked for anything unless she was asked first. She was quiet, but she was polite. She never thought about herself when someone else was in need.
Wendy would talk about herself only when asked for her opinion. She listened to every detail, and would repeat them if asked. She never forgot a face, and especially their name. She always forgot her birthday, but always remembered mine. She could never forget our anniversary, though I did.
Wendy told me all the stories of her childhood, the ones I wasn't there to live. She told me stories of her high school, the one that was our rival. She told me stories of right before we met, in college, Junior year.
Wendy met me in a coffee shop in town. She was the one that I knew I wanted to spend my life wit
In The Middle Of EverythingI'm as sure as your sailboat floats,
that no one suspects or even knows,
the ground on which I have walked.
I'm as steady as an old bridge,
loosely fastened to the old ridge,
that no one has ever walked...
in a hundred years or so.
So high in the house of your ghost,
that I can see the east coast,
And see the angels coming from beneath.
I speak like an old machine,
not so clear or pristine,
But I beckon for you from the east.
Forget how to tie the ribbons in her hair,
And let's go get some fresh air,
It's the shortest songs that hurt the most.
I've sent a message to you from afar,
But I can't see you where you are,
but we're in the middle of everything.
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
iHer eyes clouded by
nightmares of the past
Angst controls her life
as shadows chase her
each and every day
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Or what they want to be
But unlike those
I gave up
A while ago
And they can't tell me to my face that I'm a failure so they heavily imply
That my lacking presence
And even less impressive
Tendency for slacking off is evidence
That I am stupid and a fool and nothing more than such a waste of resources
And it's a disappointment
That I don't hold their ideals
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
DanielYou are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
I Like ItYou ask me what I like with those blank eyes,
But I can't get through with any amount of tries,
But here it goes, just one last time:
You know I'm a sucker for green eyes,
A sunrise, cloudy days, and her old ways,
I like the storm clouds, thunder sounds,
Underdogs and morning fog from a mountain top,
When I'm laughing and just can't stop,
Green trees and bumble bees, smiling from ear to ear,
Those three little words that I almost never hear,
I like choclate bars, compact cars, and shooting stars,
Neon signs and all straight lines, silver spoons and afternoons,
I like the tunnel lights, and grander sights,
A colder place, and warmer days,
Video games and funny surnames,
I like foreign lands and foreign tongues,
The feeling of being forever young,
Kite string and the left wing,
Cold soda on a dry throat, pine wood and maybe oak,
Or a nice place for my feet to soak,
Rock music of almost any type, the feeling of creating life,
I like wood smoke and anxious hope,
Keep in Touch!