Tag Archives: fun

lukewarm mochacchino and headaches at 7-11

Ride into the sun, ride into the sun
Where everything seems so pretty
When you’re lonely and tired of the city
Remember, it’s a flower made out of clay…

~*~

it’s been almost an entire year and then some

since the whole flock last roosted just to stay

we’ve had our cue cards and five seconds of fun

and last call of sour fries and cold waffle cakes

but now only two wasted bodies dance under

bright purple lights and the sedated aspirations

nodding heads, from the bassline, from the sleep

and from the sheer lack of plasticine inhibition

when the world is too angry, we still scream back

the past songs of the fallen, clearly left to attack

show me your secrets, then i will trade you mine

senselessly sober, these parallel lives in decline

but cough just once and we’ll have the sad truth

from stretches of lonely nights and elephant tattoos

inside the small cube you call your own freedom

rainbow sheets, cracked mirrors, limp curtains and

claw machine teddy bears protect your kingdom

it’s not much, but something is better than nothing

while i lose my shadow on concrete and let it do the talking

as time revolves unwound and with it the hopeful euphoria

along with false promises of “see you soon” and highschool drama

and somehow i feel a subtle digging tinge of irrational envy

for the things i badly want to do and yet i couldn’t really be

still stuck in all my childish drawings and untuned melodies

but peter pan, it’s time to grow up, now where’s your reverie?

a painful jolt—raging reality, and all the things i will surely miss

crash and cascade along the failed scars coating my flimsy wrists

consumerism and city blends, and chipped black nails left to gripe

old fairytales forgotten a bit too fast, falling victim to the call of life.

~*~

Where everything seems so ugly
When you’re sitting at home in self-pity
Remember, you’re just one more person
Who’s living there, it’s hard to live in the city…

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Don’t Slam The Door When You Go Away (You’re Starting To Bore Me)

Somewhere darker, talking the same shite
I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?
It’s harder and harder to get you to listen
More I get through the gears, incapable of
Making alright decisions and having bad ideas…

~*~

pointless reciprocation, calling up our meaningless demise

you watch over me like a beguiling raven in disguise

crooning, you know I’d kill for those blackberry-bruised eyes

.

don’t need to count off three, two, one—i know what you mean

i’m already there darling, set the fucking mirror on fire again

and decide if you want all the scars pulled off of your skin

.

in the closet, seven minutes, but i don’t need your tongue

to tell the inside of my mouth that we’re both having fun

i swear i’m already out of it, trying to reach for your sun

.

is it under your dirty shirt? behind that crooked smirk you wear?

is it in an open bottle of jäger and a late-night truth or dare?

go ahead and spin it faster and faster, you know i won’t be scared

.

of the monster in the midst, under your bed, against your lips

i never wanted a body, i only wanted to hold my breath before i sink

you wished to be clever, here’s your chance to win me overthink

.

were you trying to lie? handed me a smug smoke to hide it?

my phonebook’s full of strangers, something you won’t admit

but i’ll suffocate on your cancer, still addicted to that bullshit

.

so what do you say, next morning’s only one car crash away

and i won’t ask for coffee or minty words on the pillowcase

i only ask that you keep your secrets well-groomed and safe

.

from their mindless impersonations, falling out of our defenceless paper skies

i watch over you like a commuter in your passenger seat, trying to play nice

go ahead, you know i’d die all over again just to be the only one that you despise.

~*~

Now it’s three in the morning
And I’m trying to change your mind
Left you multiple missed calls
And to my message you reply
“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?
Hi, why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

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20.5 – arrow (pt. 2)

ii.) shaft

dear friend on the other side of the planet,

you make me laugh a lot, you know? it’s rather silly, but i just love your little shenanigans. the way our elated screams always intertwine together in a dissonant enthusiasm, the way we never hesitate to send our artworks and writings; trusting each other with quiet glimpses of our whimsical souls, the way you send the crazy pictures of you without any second thought—even though i’m too insecure and afraid to do the same—and the stupid way we try to bascially hurt each other with the most adorable band photos we could possibly find, relentlessly warring it out with no surrender to the end.

all of this probably wouldn’t make sense to any sane person. but that doesn’t matter, just as long as it doesn’t make sense to us either. it’s funny and i don’t think it’s ever going to get old. mostly, we just sling our constant admirations and strange motivations about and try to volleyball-pass them back straight to each other’s faces; as if trying to outdo the other one in a compliment contest—which, again, no one really wins anyway. thankfully for us.

it’s about 3 a.m. as i write this, while i’m simultaneously sending another dumb gif that’s sure to blow your fragile heart out, and my exhausted body is on the verge of imminent collapse; yet i can’t help but hang around for just a tad while longer to retaliate with another cute face one more time. i sure as hell won’t be running short of those anytime soon, and believe me, i won’t rest until i get the last word—quite literally. so be afraid, be very a f r a i d…

i know you’ll most likely never read this, but hey, all the same, thanks for those quiet moments of fun and insanity, and for unintentionally kicking me back up whenever i’m at my lowest depths. yeah, thank you for being the patty to my aws, you dumb emo dork. i’ll get you back for making me this weirdly sentimental and also for all those weird hair photos someday, i swear to ali’s eyeliner.

best regards, a sleep-deprived pasty-faced lonely swamp kid.

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Filed under Prose

b.r.a.i.l.l.e.

i am with the wind.

and the exhilarating thrill

envelops every sense,

taking my aching bones,

my hour-old bruises,

my smiling chipped teeth,

my angry brown scabs,

and lulling them back to rest,

making the pain seem like

just another pastel dream.

everyone’s just a myriad blur,

a riot of ceaseless colours

all rushing past me as

wheels bite gravel and spins

me to a whole new revolution

of a different planet in a

different existence where all

those bad memories don’t exist,

only i, and the sweat and rain

soaking the angel wings on

my back; feeling gravity

and friction and momentum

and all those ethereal forces of

the universe ensconced between

my scuffed red sneakers.

it’s all tricks and treats,

and it doesn’t matter if i fall

and eat concrete a thousand times

trying to do the same thing over again;

it doesn’t matter if i go home

always with new holes all over my

favourite jeans and jumpers

every single damn time;

it doesn’t matter if i’m being

chased away by the people who

think it’s a vagrant’s crime…

because the past and future tense

doesn’t matter when freedom

is felt right here, right now,

with me and my ride,

and i am the wind.

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Aggravate

It’s a wink

It’s a smile

It’s a tribute

It’s defiled

It’s an insult

It’s the lie

It’s who wants

To even die

It’s a stone

And a bruise

One got hit

And they lose

It’s a doubt

It’s cold flame

For a kid up in

A wrong game

It’s a smirk

It’s a grin

It’s the fun

For who wins

It’s a sinner

It’s a cynic

It’s too funny

Now, isn’t it?

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Filed under Poetry

I Don’t See It

Oh, I don’t forget every time you say
We’ll have the life that we pinned up on our wall
Can’t push the future back another day
‘Cause we been waiting for so long…

~*~

Give me a moment to burn

So I could learn to stay awake

If I had planets inside my lungs

I wouldn’t ever let them turn

.

And I’m making paper cranes

Out of magazines and yellow pages

Pushing back the future I thought

I’ve been building high for ages

.

The authenticity can grow tiring

And the static channels memerising

But I can only wait and wilt again

Feeling thorns wrap around my skin

.

So just show me what you meant

When the promise entered my brain

Like another bad syringe injection

But with a higher dose of pain

.

So I could stop burning dishonestly

For the sake of asking for bad company

If I had room for faith inside the sun

I’d keep it in the dark—that way, it’s more fun.

~*~

I’ll let you promise worlds to me
And you can take the lead, if you show me what you mean
We can build this life we dream of
I don’t wanna wait, making plans for yesterday…

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Ruby Woo

Sit around waiting for the spark to fade
You can add another face to your pity parade
I can’t believe it, I’ve never felt so cheated
Knock me down, it was all pretend
You set me back up just to do it again…

~*~

I hope that you’re proud

Making fun of the boys on the street

That bruised their knees

And couldn’t get back up again after

While you swallow yourself

Whole, lipstick girl with a lipstick heart

Defending her own jealous

“I’ll be happy forever and ever and ever”

.

I hope that you’re proud

For making fun of the people that couldn’t

Stitch their lungs as well

As you probably thought you fucking did

While no air leaves your

Open lips, lipstick girl with a lipstick brain

Pretending that her beauty

Is nothing more than an ugly kind of pain.

~*~

What am I supposed to do, uh oh
When she’s so damn cold, like twenty below?
That girl, that girl, she’s such a bitch
I tell myself I can handle it…

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Filed under Poetry

insensitive

today i slammed

my thick dumb head

on the hard concrete wall

until it bled and bled

because i was just bored

because i felt dead

because i’m too impatient

and made of pure lead

but it wasn’t as cool

so i moved on to needles

stab sharp pricks on my hand

as i made up a riddle

and the red lighter, it did

such an amazing job

it was quite a burn—literally

and these blisters i’ll have

for the rest of my life

just like the scars i made

all from yesterday and today

with the edge of my blade

no, i don’t like the abuse

i just like the pent-up violence

and if i had to take it out

better me than anyone else

so fucking call me masochistic

it’s not like i’d feel insulted

or maybe i will—try me

if that works, good job, friend

‘cause i’m just too numb

and the pain is only fun

when you stop caring about everything

and start aching for the gun.

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delays

the heat is addling

the corners of my eyes

bleeding with tears

that i so madly despise

.

crowds so dense

they all suffocate

as footsteps go on

of weary and late

.

i take a breath

but i can find none

fun was all fun

but now it’s all done

.

i’m stuck and bored

i don’t know why i try

“home sweet home”

has never been such a lie.

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vices

faith may

be a fickle fun

and dreams

may try to run

but when all

is said and done,

you are still

the only one.

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Filed under Poetry