Sometimes I Take Chances, Sometimes I Take Pills.

I believe in the Trinity of self. 3 sides to every story and to every human. So when you ask me if I have multiple personalities, I'll scream YES with pride, and faith. And if you say you're lacking you're own, you're only skipping out on honesty.

Behind this smirk is the greatest story never told. Please write circles around me. Orbit my mind with new ideas, just give me surround-sound and the book on tape.

Gorgeous centerfolds only serve as reminders that "saline" is much more applicable to information. It must float to last forever. Show of hands, who needs truth implants? Don't become the girl that God stood up on Sunday.

And we are the saddest generation of them all. Every time-period is stamped with a memory. My grandparents generation was known for their inability to realize that despite race, religion, or sexuality, every human is equal. My parents generation has been recognized as the "hippie" generation that bred carelessness and self-indulgence. And now, accordingly... our generation will be remembered as the "politically correct" generation. We're the generation that gave the power to lawyers and the weak... as if those terms were polar opposites. We will be remembered as the generation with their fingers pointing outward. Never guilty... until the real story is told.... (see also: written by our children.)

We are the missing mirror on the Hubble telescope... the communication between our Intelligence agencies before 9/11. We are the O-ring seal on the space shuttle Challenger. Disasters that will not be revealed until we've accumulated major loss.

We feed upon ourselves. Much like vengeance and revenge. The problem is that we wash our hands on a cloth of glass. Cutting into, and staining any hope of coming clean.

We are the generation that gave Vegas legs. Smile as we all swallow "reality," also known as the fate-rape drug. Even Romeo would walk away.

"Hell Must Be Empty Tonight, Because All Of The Devils Were Here"

I am "The Little Black Book." The same way that the color taupe is confident while beige is always described as being bland. Cheers to the go-to guy, in a dead-end world.

Spent last night as a witness to the opening night of an astounding production of "Rent." I was fortunate enough to spend some time at their "after-party," and walked away in jealousy. Young, talented, under-paid, starving, and brilliant. I can only hope to share these definitions once again.

I like to air-dry on the interstate, just like your vehicle when you have run out of quarters at the car wash.

I spent the ride home catching glimpses of, and professing my love to the moon. And when the moon answered, she reminded me that she too is being held hostage by the gravity of the Earth. Forever tracing circles around her keeper. We share the same obsession. We've both been set in motion with the goal of being one step ahead of the curve. Only my mind demands that I be 18 steps forward. So let's just hope we aren't being graded by it.

LunaAndRyanForever

When They Stop Pointing Fingers It Will Still Be You

Title this one "The Oh-So Sobering Thoughts of an Addict." Summarize it with the tag; "Everyone Is Looking For Their Next Fix." Spotlights, hearts, shuteye. It will not matter how you get it, or who you get it from. It is all the same when the shakes set in.

Sift through the cobwebs and time capsules in your head if you can. Find the smile that can be used as blueprints for all future counterfeits. Pinpoint the last time anything really meant something. Intelligence has never been a social affair. And it's obvious that you have an entire world of worry under that rehearsed image.

We are all strangers and this will be our story... For more information on this story, please open your text books to page zero...if you can find it.

This kid that's standing before you, picked up a pen and it has been his polygraph ever since. It screams honesty and draws truth. Read between every line, that's where you'll find him.

You and I know that the best conversations are the ones where neither of us has to say a word. So let's practice our awkward glances that will say more than our mouths ever will.

This world fits into 2 categories. The fixers and the fixed. But less like dogs and cats, and more like duct tape.

I'll admit that it's weird that I only spill my guts across the screen at night. As if the sleepy eyes won't ever see this. Like I won't get caught.

Sleep is nothing more than a forced objective, and it's often unfulfillable. Being awake is so draining. Everything that came before this sentence and the ones that will come after is pretty much the way I am at all hours these days. A cluster-fuck on a spin cycle. On this whole self-contained science project better known as earth, filled with billions of beating hearts, innocence can only last for a short period of time before it becomes ignorance.

Teach your eyes to lie. Save your voice for the big ones. You will find my conscience in the medicine cabinet. Happiness can be found a few isles over in the bargain bin, marked down and labeled 'as is'.

Isn't it funny how the games you grew up playing served as subtle foreshadowing for how it would all play out? Risk. Solitaire. Trouble. Sorry. And we've grown up, but the rules stay the same. I never bought Boardwalk though. I guess Mediterranean Ave. just felt more like home for me.

I look for the ladders and always land on a chute. This is you laughing at me as I fall down another one. One good win and you'll take it all. I wish there were still do-overs.

ForeverALeftover

The Return Policy Will Be As Follows

I've come to the realization that I'm a mental polygamist. I'm married to each corner of my mind. Unspeakable acts that are usually reserved for late night adventures have become my mid-afternoon norm. I'm the split second before the 1st plane hit. The hopeless moment before the rest of your world changes.

Everyone has been telling me about this great new stock option. It's a company that trades on the exchange under the symbol NOTU. However, after much thought, I've decided to put all of my dollars in another company that trades under the symbol SELF. I hear it's going to triple in value in 2 weeks.

And her love can't keep me out of 2am streets. Winding myself down, and towards home to reload. Pills for progress. I'm a slave to twist-off tops and half-moon pills. The less that I eat tends to get me to my destination both physically and creatively. So prepare yourself for disillusioned eyes, hiding behind the liquids.

Watch me and a full moon press the pedal down to the floor. Passing intended exits. Opting for an all night ride inside my mind.

Popping pills to get even with the Narcolepsy has me beyond and into Insomnia.

makeortakeone lovehostage

Learning Honesty By Antonym

I'll wait, in this turnstile haze where youth is our cell mate and age is the jailer. I guess it beats waving a handkerchief goodbye, towards a fuzzy face on a moving ship.

My heart is one stone's toss from a riot inside my chest. I want to testify to the courts of love.

Cocktails and miniature mistakes. I'm liquid blue she's hostile gray. When you see me stagger, just know I'm being antagonized by what you can't hear and I'm just moving with the current.

Self embalment describes my behavior. When I withdraw myself from human affairs just leave me a note on where I live. I'll make it slow and painful like you wanted.

ImTheWizardOfCause

Til' Tonight Do Us Part

A "fair fight" is a contradiction. So let's redefine the definitions of these words that we use so loosely... and let's be honest, nobody even uses that phrase until it's all over anyway.

We all do it. It's all about getting caught and admitting to it. Admittance is what keeps us/it real. So stand on the soap box and announce to the town square that we've all lost control. We've all lost our souls, and we've all lost it on one another.

Today I'm hanging out with question marks that introduced themselves in previous lines... and I'm still bent on the way that your voice has been the soundtrack to my Winter. Bring on the thunder.

And in the distant night sky I can see airplanes lining up for thier assigned runways. Their lights looking like the stars in Orion's belt. Let's become the songs that never made history, only because they were played with an acoustic guitar, intimate, and alone. The way we should always be.

I'm stepping outside just to see if I can breathe.... or maybe I'm just looking for another way out. Memorizing disc changers and track numbers to soothe my mind. Breathing in this city that is so much like rehab, teaching me lessons while I'm waiting to be released. This weekend, let's write our names in newly poured concrete.

Come on Ryan. You've done this 28 times before, you'd think you'd get the hang of it by now- a night spent in your room by yourself. Realizing how you always change tense mid-thought. If you were at a hotel, you would order room service for two because you wouldn’t want the hotel staff to think you could be this alone.

The Sun Isn't Yellow, It's Chicken

Shifting from closer to day breaker. In between sleep is scarce. Rush and then rest? Unlikely.

I sat and stitched this Frankenstein relentlessly but you gave it that final kiss of life. The years are starting to take their toll. The miles show in the form of smile lines around my eyes.

You're only still staring because in my mind I am reloading. My phases of Narcolepsy are tied directly to the words you steal right from my mind. And every morning I play Russian Roulette with my alarm clock. Not that it matters. The shadows under my eyes hide more secrets than any amount of rest could ever coax from me.

Misunderstanding knows me by name, and it's all just searching for acceptance at the bottom of the radio dial.

Never Take This Friendship Personal

I wrote my name out, just to see if it still felt natural. Original. I pressed it in my favorite book to see if it might catch some luck.

They drink to forget, I write so I never will. Cursed myself down and out for all time because I am regular. Minus all of this. Don't even bother trying to argue with manics.

There is something about this year that has me crawling back inside my own shell. Even with of all the greens and honey in those eyes.

When I think about them I want to be subtracted down to a particle that runs through your veins. I want to run through your body.

Not Dead Yet, But We Have Ceased The Screaming

I'm going to stay awake tonight just to watch this town catch fire. Love is to fight the fight. And we are 2 lovers, 2 horses, 6 guns and sawed-off rifles. A modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

Barricaded inside our cabin, we heard the Sheriff and his posse ride up. They shouted their last orders and we knew that even if we only lasted one more night, at least we could fight... and fight a fire.

With our backs against the door, rifle's locked and loaded for one last blast, I handed her the note with instructions to bury my heart in Sierra Leone. On the count of three: we breathed regret, ate remorse and drank to torture. Well aware that we were never coming back.

Rising towards the windows we heard the shots, we heard the horses and saw the colors of the flag. We knew the calvary had come to take us dead or alive and we took our chances. We chose to fall down standing up.

Some Die, And Some Just Move Away vs. Happy Birthday To Me

Write it in the sky with smoke. Paint it on the courthouse. Let's have a revolution of regret. Let the posters show that I fell through the ice into you and then tore off our clothes to suffer.

Got my kevlar and my headphones on and a song to sing... along with a sunken feeling. I've got my politics together and my platform remains... this city needs the decent man that's ringing out of me.

Let's play this one for real money. Now go ahead and play your part like you're being graded. I'm the man of the estate. 50% of what should be. And we both know that 50% is a failing grade. Empty tables and full hearts are fine for beggars and prostitutes, but not brothers. Now I'm the outside-her.

His Toe Tag Read "Who Cares"

I love the way my dog looks at me like he knows how fragile I am. Between me and him, I have continents inside of me, full of guns and loves. And we both know that guns and loves are only different by definition. In reality they are equal. Linked if only by the way that you will always remember your first ones.

It's time to starve for two reasons; validation and punishment. Sweat and tears pretty much have the same chemical make up. We all burn the weight off somehow.

Of all the minorities-born into, joined, and otherwise; of all the private clubs and subcultures, self-love is by far the most exclusive. I'm hoping to learn the secret handshake.

MakeOrTakeOne lovehostage

Dear You, Please Open. Love, Me

Where to start. Type. Backspace. Type. Backspace. Over and over. Light me up for next Summer.

I want grass on my back and stars in my eyes and the chance to turn my brain upside down for a bit. If you lasso the moon without me make sure to use double knots. Gasoline lips for your matchstick hips... let's burn this Winter through.

Today has been spent designating drivers for 'GetOverIts' and walking the opposite way. I'm suffocating in a debris of erasers from crumbled letters.

Does this plane ticket make me look fat?

A night out with my former self. I started to get sucked in again until I remembered that it will all just spit me out the same. She feels whore-able. The Nina to my Hirschfeld. Hidden in the creases because suspicious eyes have demanded it.

The great Jonas Salk invented the Polio vaccine, 1st testing it on himself, followed by his wife and three sons. I've invented a new form of hostile vernacular that I'm testing on us all.

Written On the Sidewalk

Eyes locked on the curb and blades of grass that sneak between the cracks. Picking myself apart. The only life I feel is in my right hand, and that's funny, because its linked with yours. I've been letting my mind get the best of us all, friends included, and it can be such a weapon of destruction. WakingUpInGuilt

Illuminate this bed and make this feel epic. Let's become a disaster and a masterpiece rolled into one. Carefully chiseled rough edges are all I am made of.

Currently trying to figure out how to untangle myself of the expectations that I have casted.

Initiate Booster Ignition Sequence for Launch

Fingers going at the rate of my thoughts. I've been shedding tears in nightmares the past few nights. Dreaming everyone close to me away. I think that I only apply this pressure to myselft because that's how you are supposed to handle an open wound. Still trying to convince them all to swallow reality and belch the truth. That's my cure. This year everyone exchanged guilt for the holidays. It's always "give love, make blood" when they're around. Torn between telling you the truth or letting you get what you deserve.

This year when the ball dropped we all became rockets with our clocks counting down to lift-off. I'm in love with the way that my mind ignites between exit 30 and exit 9, and when the miles per hour work themselves down the insecurity sets in and my heart beats faster knowing you'll meet me at the door. Empty lanes to refuge. Fix me in 25.

For you and me. NYC was matchbooks becoming notebooks to mark our travels. Stealing glasses at Caliente and never rollin' on the wheels we meant to. Last minute decisions, another night in the city. The Time it is a changing. A few nights in mustard, the last in ketchup. Glow-in-the-dark bling, and old friends busting in on date night. Bedtime is 5:00. Holding down the VIP at the W Times Square and ShirtTales toy cars.

Pretzels consuming faces, quick snapshots of the empire skyline. Forgettable subway rides. Ray, Tiffany, Balto and Stouty. Crazy Chinese cab drivers, and altercations with Christmas trees.

49th and 7th. Full circle. You saw me see the ball drop... right?