I want to write words that move like a bass line smoothes out a slow song. I want this thing to beat your bones like it was a fucking kick drum. Like buh-dum dum dum. Can you feel it bumping yet? Like a song that you loved but forgot about until just now. These wordsContinue reading “Music”
I want to paint these words on my wall, so that maybe they’ll last forever, or last until the walls fall, like in a storm, or a fire, or some shit like that. Or maybe I should tattoo them on my skin, because tattoos are forever. Well, I guess, until the skin wears thin andContinue reading “Eternity”
It would be easy to give up, and give in, and put on one of those dumb fucking suits. Everyone else does it. I could do it too. Punch in. Punch out. No problem. I just can’t help but wonder what would happen to these words, and to the words that I could have writtenContinue reading “Thoughts During Writer’s Block, pt. 2”
I want to take a shower and start over. Not with this, but in general. I’d like to go back to school and figure out what my life should look like – what it could look like – if I wasn’t so worried about writing all this bullshit. I could probably get a good jobContinue reading “Thoughts During Writer’s Block, pt. 1”
I spendso much timein these wordsthat it’sthe worldthat starts tosounds likefiction,and it’s thevoices inmy headthat Ilisten to.And theytell me tostay here.
It’s snowing sideways. Heavy wind. I’m high as shit and I think that I’m going to hit a patch of ice and lose control of the car, and crash, and die. I see myself lying over my steering wheel, head through the windshield. Bloody. Broken. Fuck, I think, I wish it was sunny and warmContinue reading “Snowing”
These red eyes are nothing but a way to hide from everything that I don’t want to see clearly. Nothing but a diguise, like a mask or some shit. And I like it that way.
It’s not the writing that’s hard. It’s the self-doubt, and fear, and hatred of my own words that is.
I don’t wear glasses. My vision is good. But I have been seeing Things kinda funny Through these red-x lenses. It’s all shapes and Lines that bend, And objects that Don’t make any sense. Sometimes it scares me But sometimes I love it, Just knowing that I Must be a squiggly mess Of shapes andContinue reading “Shapes and Lines”
Sometimes I just can’t write, Can’t think of anything. No ideas, None. Then I watch some porn and think, Ok, maybe I got one…