When's the Time?

One of these days, I'll decide to be strong. I'll decide to stand up and re-enter the world of logic and reason, of foresight and long-term gain. But in my heart I find no such desire; nothing that allows me to let go or be okay.
How could you be okay? I hope you're lying.
It's disgusting actually, how I'd rather stay in this state of misery if it just means holding on to a tiny shred of hope of keeping you, than to let you slip away and maybe go back to being a happy me. I don't know if it's disgusting actually. I can hardly help it. Maybe this misery is beautiful. Maybe it's not desperate or weak or unwarranted. Maybe it is, I'm not really sure. No, I don't think it is. You're allowed to care and invest in things that are unsure. You're allowed to follow your heart.
True? Then why am I being directed otherwise? But then I trust You. And then I remember how bad it sucks. And then I remember I trust You.
It sucks. I trust You. I trust You. I trust You. I trust You. I trust You. It sucks! I trust You. I trust You. I trust You.








- With all but a shred of my heart.

Flippin' suuuucks.

I don't really want your advice anymore,
No more pros and cons lists
Possibilities and opportunities.
I don't really want to talk about it anymore,
Or think about it, since I've already done more than enough of that.

I just want someone to sit with me
And let me cry my salty tears.
Honestly, I just want you to look me in the eye and say:
"That sucks," and mean it,
Because that's all that's left to say.

I want you..

You and I, we're like an uncontrollable freight train, pushing forward with every force of momentum and nothing holding us back. We are bounding - without grip, without consent and without even a whisper of ever stopping.
Close the curtains and we'll go a lovely shade of green as we get motion sickness from the speed at which this train takes the curves in its tracks, the way it glides alongside gravity down steep slopes. Or maybe we'll leave the curtains open and watch as trees and houses and people and places all blur into colourful lines of undefinition; of surreality and inferiority to what we have created for ourselves. They can be the backdrop of our slow dance, as we rock and sway to the chugging rhythm of the train. Our heartbeats keep perfect, undisrupted time to the most melodic, movement inspiring music I've ever heard.
But within seconds of this fabricated heaven, where every cell of my body asks to be taken, I suffocate. I cannot stand or sing or dance or sway. I cannot move or breathe or speak or be. I have been unplugged, and pulled into a gorgeously alluring state. And don't get me wrong, it is everything I want. Everything I've ever wanted, but its just not what I need.
So I will throw myself onto these cold iron tracks, shivering limply with my heart - spewing broken blood - in my hand. I will be what stops this pulsing train; a sacrifice of pain and flesh and happiness. And though I wanted to forget the tracks, forget the path and the destination and focus solely on falling deeper and deeper into exclusive bliss with you, I can't.
Oh, goodb... It hurts to say.

Goodbye bliss, goodbye.
Come back to me.
Goodbye.
Come back.
Goodbye.


I need Him. I want you. I need Him. I need Him. I need Him. I need Him. I need Him. I want you. I need Him. I need Him. I need Him.

Get Up

I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.

I
   Am
          Stronger
                          Than
                                     This.

Sleeping is for the peaceful.

Your Jesus books piled miles high.
I don't want your Jesus books or hooks
Or looks or any of that other stuff.
I just want something real and pure.

Smoother than the L.A. weather,

That's how he holds himself together. 

He is colder than the winter, 

I wrap my coat around to better

Counteract his charm attack 

That leaves me hungry. 

Well I'm no saviour, 

But I tried to save you

With all my love. 

He pushes everyone away from him
As he screams for someone to come close.

Why does he do that?
How do we get in?

Take the back door
Break a window
Stand and wait
Knock and knock
Knock, knock, knock
Knees, pleas
Please.


Believe in me, help me believe in anything
'Cause I want to be someone who believes.

So I'll stand by Your truth,
And I'll fight with Your strength,
Until you bring the victory.

E. E. Cummings [Poetry to Prose], Gorgeous.

Feeling is the intensity of life. This being the case, the person who dwells on the reason of life will never be fully engulfed by the passion of the moment, or take part in the full experience of a kiss. This same person will live, forever lacking the entirety of the experience while delicate opportunities prance tantalizingly around them.
So says my lifeblood that pulses in passion, that kisses are a better gratification than wisdom, Lady, I swear by all things beautiful. Don't cry - the sharpest functioning of my brain pales in comparison to your eyelids' even slightest flutter. I could craft the most complex of wordy expressions to say what you can say in one glance: We are for each other. Exploit your emotion: laugh, leaning back in my arms, grazing your free spirited passion against my structured logic. Life is not so structured, there is no formula.
And death will not define anything that happens between the beginning and the end.