Bury Your Worries and Toes in the Sand

There's a man at the corner bar sitting hands clenched, holding tightly to his hat so it wont blow away..... He's with a girl who has stuffed her hands in her pockets, holding tightly to her money so she won't blow it all on another addiction. It really is all the same. Every single day.

When he gets home from work he'll find his children already in bed without seeing his face today. And the girl with empty pockets, she has spent all of her money again. She's wondering why she even owns a wallet.

She is the L and he is the O for us, Liars Out there, and she is the V and he is the E for the Violence in Everyone. We might spell you, but we are nothing like you.

His kids have said their prayers and are sound asleep... visions of being all grown up with children of their own have them swearing that they will never wear the same hat size that their father wears. And the girl, now a woman... she says that she's happy and thanks god for jewelry and single millionaires.

She is the H and he is the O for us, Humble Orphans. She's the S and he is the T, as they are Starving to Trust. And they both are the A and the G. Absent from God. The rest of us, we're just the E..... the Emptiness they feel, from pockets to hearts.

We might spell you, but we are nothing like you. We have all either fallen in, or been taken.

2nd Star To The Right

Deep down inside we all just want to be Galileo's telescope. We all want to change the world at such a pace that when we are gone we'll have enough knowledge to point towards the significance of our own existence.

My words are the convex lens that results in the ability to see so much further... at least that's how I will tell this story when it's all said and done. And I'm only talking to myself.

Collecting all of the light to one sharp point. Isn't that what we're all aiming for? Clear images. A narrow field of view aimed towards the end. Telescopic dreamers. Sentenced to death by the church for such thought. Persecution looks so lovely next to romance. Still loving the way the letters look next to each other, and the way the syllables fall out of your mouth.

If I'm to be painted as a tryptic, summons Hieronymus Bosch and allow him to paint me perfect. Heaven, Hell, and Earth.. I'm a citizen of all. And if you claim to exist otherwise you are merely a citizen of your own delusion.

Banned words, written by legends placed upon house arrest... they have led us into our current place and time. Focus like a mirror, and be concave with your judgment. Don't house heroes.

A simple device and a brilliant mind. That's how close we are to failure, and our future. Science and Religion will always be the balance, but how will we agree upon the measure at the moment of truth?

BetterOffAlone

Jimmy Hoffa's Middle Name Was Riddle... Seriously

The biggest lie of all will be in the following sentence. You. Only, not really. One word doesn't constitute a sentence. Just because it's followed by a period doesn't make it a statement. Right. Replacing periods with question marks and such. Ends are only open ended.

The biggest lie of all is that failure is not an option. It always is. It's how we operate. Placing bets to holding breaths... we can't all be winners.

Disappointed, but not in the knowledge of Santa Claus kind of way. More like the time I found out that it takes a week to make a jelly bean.

Fun facts keep finding me in the middle of conversation. Always presented in the "matter-of-fact" kind of way. Proving points and I'm taking notes. An Octopus' testicles are in it's head. How appropriate. Einstein never wore socks. Brilliant. And check your map to see that the Pacific entrance of the Panama Canal is farther East than the Atlantic entrance. Backwards way of thinking. Literal truth. Me and You. Sid and Nancy.

"Sex is a natural antihistamine," she said without flinching. It's no wonder she never breathes through her mouth.

I'm in love with the whites of my dog's eyes. It lets me know he's looking up to me and it bathes me in responsibility. I hope to wear them one day.

I Wish Everyone Would Be So Nice As To Put Me In A Cab

Pound your palm twice on the rooftop of the cab. Just like the ambulance door. All is closed and ready for shipping.

Been practicing my "I don't cares" in the mirror. I'm not sure if I've even got it yet. I don't even know if I remember my lines anymore. I'll come back to life for you. It's in my nature.

I'm thinking of you now and again, more now though- even when we don't talk. Still looking for some meaning while stretching for some hope or faith. There is nothing but air between us.

I'll take 4-legged friends over parachutes any day. The secret to the biggest hit is a line of self-empowerment right before the chorus. Minds the size of NYC and I need to get out of town.

No one is ever introduced as a liar.. only dismissed. Kerosene and coke to go please... with a side of a bridge to burn. Spit honesty and the sparks will follow to ignite it all.

I'm the get-away car that drove straight into the cul-de-sac. Dead end dreamer. I couldn't die if I tried.

All of my ex's end up on billboards or the big screen. I'm sure you'll be fine(d.)

Now You Say I'm A Bird

Drew x's on the scars today and o's across your fingertips last night. I've been talking to myself a lot lately. Writing words for my eyes only. My last entry to myself read "this world isn't big enough for the one of us."

All of your habits are confusing. More so than the tread from those tire tracks that have intersected our body language.

Yesterday a little bird didn't notice my sliding glass door and was severely hurt. One hard hit and she became a hostage to the wind, flying wherever it blew. I rushed to meet her on the pavement where I found her convulsing... and I swear I heard her whisper "I am hated."

I sat with her for over an hour, wanting to let her know that it wasn't her.. it was just her genetic flaws that wouldn't allow her to decipher reflections from reality. But then I realized neither can I.

Proper burials for hour-long bonds. Learning more from less.

I Couldn't Solve Your Equation Until I Did The Math

That horoscope that you read in the back of your little gossip magazines... it's flawed. The cute little "sign" that you've been given, based upon the position of the Sun, the Moon, and planets at the precise moment of your birth... it's incorrect.

Sir Isaac Newton discovered that the Earth "wobbles" around it's pole, causing the position of the sun to move backward through a zodiac sign at the rate of 1° every 72 years.

Our current Astrological calendar is over 3,000 years old. No revisions. You've been told you were born under the sign of Capricorn when in reality you were born under the sign of Aquarius. 12 signs of the zodiac.. all 30 degrees apart.... completing a 360 degree horizon. You're over 41.7 degrees from who you think you are.

How does it feel to make decisions based on false information? I could write a book about it. Or maybe I already have. You were my Zodiac.

I give good pity to the do-righters in the same way that they give good blame to me. I've said my prayers and written down the things I saw so there will be no need for repetition. These ears have heard it all, and these eyes... well they've got their own weight to carry. I'm the drug inside your tablet, and the only thing left that won't dissolve.

AboveBeneathBesideHer

Charge Your Heart. Beware Of The Overload

While sleeping through the worry there was a moment when the last good part of me died. It wasn't angry or rebellious, not mean spirited or even dramatic.. It kinda just coughed, sputtered and then died in its sleep.

So this will be a collective effort in giving up. I'm still stuck with glue on my fingertips and tiny hopes and dreams in my lap... all of which were a continued effort to take your doll house dreams and make them real.

This has turned into a fascination; an obsession with seeing how far apart a heart beat can be. You said the classics never go out of style, but I don't see you wearing me to any hit parties, just crashing my own. Bad luck has nothing on me.

There's an art to staying clean, but they've only given me this dirt as canvas.

Send The "Life"Guard Just For The Sake Of Irony

It's numbing... the moment you realize that the one you care so much about may have just crossed their heart, only to get to the other side. Long distance Aprils and short-term distractions. You have claimed eminent domain over my thoughts.

It's funny, the way I see poetry in everything but myself. I'm the burnt out tail light that has people asking questions about previous where-abouts, and current states of mind.

You are one sided stories and secrets kept behind closed doors. "Make sure it's shut so I can fall asleep." I'm the untold story. I'm the ejection seat, the last excuse. I'm the deep yellow that makes you appear so gold.

And I'm falling again for the way you smell.. what is that you are wearing.. Deception?

Let's Act Our Love HostAGE...

lovehostage

We all have cardboard cut-outs of what we want to be. Perfectly, perfect. Life is a trick but as long as you learn the secrets behind the magic, you'll be a diamond. Step 1... Fall In

With a window and a ladder, you should know that the lock is the limit. Here's to Spring cleaning (up all the messes we made over winter).Let these become your new habits and loves. They will include: (a) words all over again, (b) bloody lips, and (c) "fuck offs".

"9 weeks can't change you"... but they don't even get it. Words just love us more. Step 2.. Be Taken

We're all nailed and boarded up in a box addressed to somewhere else. Of all of gods jokes, we are the most cruel. Let's make them forget their heads.

Finally... I'm in love with breathing again. You can't miss me, baby girl, we're doing big things.

Ignition sequence initiated.... Thrust level at 100% for all engines. Houston, lovehostage is rolling program.... Altitude and velocity reporting normal..... Throttling up......

Pin My Hopes On High, Keep My Faith Down Low

Joke me something awful. I slipped under the covers and into your arms, feeling at ease for the first time in days. Where were you when I needed you?

Stars on speed-dial. Racing towards a West coast catastrophe. It's not that I don't trust you, actually it is. And I don't trust myself when I think of you anymore. I sell myself out.

I'm chasing August, Navy Pier and all. Cashing in on hits. Casper as an alias on your radio. I'll be the next J.T. LeRoy. George M. Willing's "Idaho."

I feel infuriatingly left out of it all. Much like a tugboat in dry-dock... while she, glittery voyager of a secure destination, steams down the harbor with her whistles whistling and confetti in the air.

High Fashion For Last Chances

I spend time behind my eyelids dreaming in sequence, just enough to remember the downfall but never the rest. I like to make my presence felt in an empty room. I drink to feel alone so I can create something to wake up to. Tragedy soaked notebooks by the boxes. We're all just throwing fingertips against the keys and closing our eyes.

I've become addicted to the way words look when they sit next to each other and I go after events that will give me words to mix in. I wander off just to make a moment, but we all know that you can't force those kinds of things.

Tonight, trains derailed through my fingertips, crashed into my wrists and rolled straight out of bed into this journal.

FishermanOfHearts

Give Me Pills To Sit Still

I'm the inside of "I don't care." Right in the middle. I'm right in the middle.

Be my unholy, my one and my lonely. I wear rings and hoods cause it's the only poker face that I've got left. And everything I love about you is a mess. Smash the mirror and break the palm reader's hands I want to be better than all of this.

Coming up roses or coming down from the buzz, it's all the same.

Staying cold like July on the moon... just to give seasons a run for their money. I saw myself in the mirror and remembered that I like myself better when I'm miserable. I'm just in love with the transition between air and your arms.

I wasn't even in my seat before I shot the pilot and burnt the map. Please send this plane down screaming and teach me a lesson I won't forget. Turning engines with no intention of ever leaving the ground.

StayLonely

From The Absolute Best Gutter In Town, Where The Best Intentions Get Backspaced Or Typos....

I've noticed lately that I'm always in traffic, stuck behind the ambulance with the interior light on. Traveling in full view of all the trauma. For the love of God, get come curtains.

When the tears hit the paper they become the best of ourselves. This is how Stonehenge was built, and how the Grand Canyon split. Smiles and laughter do the same to our faces over time. My favorite feeling lately has been the deep breath that I take when shutting the door.

Her hair on my pillow tends to feel more like a hotel than a home, and I mean that in the best of ways. I'm putting money towards the belief that the first words Columbus spoke were "is this it?" Hopes, spirits, hearts, lungs... what goes up must come down kind of stuff. I'll never expect you to relate, just to smile while you pretend to.

Debauchery is the middle name of those who have the ability to read this without taking a breath.

I want to make markets crash. Dashing is the way I'm living, I'm Chanel and you're just Dior. The sunburn that is about to make you look oh so fucking good. Where I'm from, cancer comes in the form of trophies.

Radio Active Boy Kills Local Dreams

Yesterday kids without any clue. Fairy tales burn and melt away. We're all just saints before the understanding; disposable angels putting on faux-wings that are made to only wither and hang. Last night I found new blue doors to nowhere. Sentence me away to five; to myself I'll be the biggest trader of them all. Telling sincere lies all night long.

We live split lives. Like a split level house.. one for happiness and the other for god knows what.

Spin me in circles and redirect me to the time when I could say what I wanted and not feel judged because I didn't know any better.

Any better? Ask again and call me in a few weeks.

Silhouettes move faster when they have something to hide, and there is something so perfect about holding someones hand on a ledge. It's like even if you fall it wouldn't be so bad.