Touchdown On You

what am i doing. who am i am. i could ask myself a million times over but what am i trying to prove? all this feeling in me and who am i trying to love, trying to feel. im a mess. one helluva hot mess trying to act like i dont want those things, but i want them - secretly ill never have them because of the front i display. i want you but i dont. i dont but i do. i want you, who the fuck am i kidding. doesnt matter who i talk to, who i try to explain it to. im a disaster trying to touchdown on you.

Astrological Embellishments

a feeling. strong and bold like characters; highlighted. right clicked and italicized, for better emphasis. a feeling that's grown fingernails, and with outstretched arms finds the grit of it all. a feeling which pushes it's eyes open to see the beautiful of it's shape. a feeling, going off like an alarm clock in a chest, a chest guarded with bulletproof faces, a feeling masked by oneself, masked by the world, masked to the world. a feeling. like a windstorm, shaking the core, twisting it in the light, allowing the feeling to spill out over a day of feelingless unmentionables. a feeling kicked in the dirt, toyed with on the shelf. a feeling, picked up. tossed about. left on the curb. a feeling of colour. the warmth of a purple hue, in the contrast dance of a feverant blue all colliding with loving mouths into a sea of yellow so enlightening it forms green, on the verge of red. a colour me feeling, on the topography of astrological embellishments, contorting it's face as if a new angle will allow new feeling. a feeling. rushed. silenced. angered. adored and ignored. a feeling built towards the sun and kisses the clouds so the stars can penetrate it's feeling with a sugary dust of longing, a feeling capitalized, bottled and sold. a feeling smeared with something much more whole, much more solid. an itemized feeling. alphabetized, organized and unorganized. a feeling you can't quite taste but your fingers are all over it. mark your words you know it's there, even if you are stringing along the most perfect of imperfect cocktails to make it real. a feeling of making up. a feeling of taking down. a feeling you carry in a Tiffany's box, like a girl's best friend.

Where The Things Run Wild

throwing yourself under the bus because why wait for someone else to do it. you see the green of the traffic light sweep to red and your foot doesn't release the pressure your putting on the pedal, it thunders on quickly, anticipating the crash. waiting for the slice of white light to drag you into darkness some sort of luck comes crawling out of a place and the intersection is clear, allowing you to make a slap shot slide onto an open road. suffocating time with an invisible fear, a bad idea that apologizes can't make up for. time twisting it's hands behind it's back and now bobs for your throat like vampires in the night. intensity, seeping into your pain. unpredictable confidence budding and blooming on the thorns of sympathy and creating bridges to places that your mind wish to wander, leave you standard on a paperback disaster where things are cutting edge and cut loose, where the things run wild and your mind isn't afraid of them. worthy of beautiful things, letting things in and letting things out. dealing with things, twisting them up. driving in and out. smiling with a tinge of death in the corner of your mouth. swimming into a pit of perplexities. cart wheels and half smiles, scared for your life and you can't keep running away from yourself. talking to yourself, trying to make sense of things, cashing in paper bills for cents and closure.

All She Wants Is Darkness

she's full of truths. lies, and poison. she paints her lips outside the lines, to make them appear bigger. adoring the sultry smiles of women on the big screen. stays up late at night confessing things to herself, talking herself in and out of trouble. she wants everything and nothing all at once. she lives in a house, with a family and things. nice things, bad things, this house is full of things. things you can hold, and admire and things she'd rather tuck into her skull, leave them in a little nook, somewhere no one will find them. she's full of love. hate, wrapped in bow ties. she's fill of questions. answers, and surprises. she wears dresses that don't make her feel anymore clothed then if she were naked. she's full of promise. but she wouldn't dare make you one. broken pieces lay scattered at the bottom of her underwear drawer. pieces she could never put back together because some how she has misplaced a few of them, she would look for them but she fears the product they would create, the puzzle that would be answered with them all connected. she walks through life with things on her mind, piles of things, piling up into the sky. she walks through life. she does. turning over rocks she pokes at the darkness, the emptiness that seems so full, she inquires on why the sun doesn't try to poke into this space, why like water, must it spill into all of her, shine on everything she wishes to hid in the darkness, yet this rock; such a bore in all it's entirety, gets away with housing it's nothing in a darkness she longs to find, longs to capture and live inside, hide behind. all she wants is darkness.

Simply Shocked Surprised Syndrome

shocked.

your shocked at what you just went through your mind.

scared.

because this isn't the first, or the last time.

stunned.

as if headlights flashed in your eyes from the front end of a beautiful car.

surprised.

this is one, this isn't brand new at all.

simplified.

waiting for something to become dull.

shaded.

without reason.

scorn.

the possibilities that lay before you.

super.

intense, magnified.

stranded.

and you really don't have a care in the world.

shocked.

like a shock of blonde hair and your don't even care, no need to play with reason and the hype of brand new has faded, and it's the world and your eyes, a constant battle without any surprise.

Your Smile Does Things To Me

i've got to tell you something devilishly frightful. full of promise and hope, compassion and indigo smiles. i've got to tell you something so explosive it'll make you want to dance, casting shadows above your head into the night's sky, you would think it's the forth of july. it's mega, larger than life. beautiful like library books and sultry like cigarettes in glamorous, dressed up people.. huffing and puffing on glamorous poison, sending fog into the night. i've got to tell you, i've got to tell you. this is going to come as a surprise, but then again you might have known all along, what i've got to tell you, got to tell you. and when i tell you, oh i can't wait to see your eyes for they will cast a glance into space like a fishing line out on the ocean and the waves will rock that line like what i've got to tell you will rock your vision. so let me, won't you let me tell you, you're ready i can see it in your lips, thirsty like a shark for what i've got to tell you, don't go and bare your teeth because oops! the sight of your smile has caught my off my feet and i've gone and forgotten, forgotten what i've got to tell you, got to tell you. but now i'll tell you something i know and smile makes me forget things i'm sure i already know.

A Different Type Of Courage

prospective orchestras begin to chime and a thousand kisses slow to the speed of light. traffic picks up in the grocery stores as if all are hungry, hunger for change. twinkling lights catching your eyes and leaving your mouth half opened, you think about everything and anything all at once. i've gone and thought of too many things to tell you. words snapping at my lungs and i feel myself catching my breath as if now is not the time to say goodbye to it. rapid chaos swirls in the sky and today is the day to say it. spots of a dalmatian all different and cohesive like my feelings for you. a different type of courage, with a side of the liquid kind for smoother sailing, smooth sailing. stomping on reality, with shoes made from the most precious of metals and you like the clink like a toast at a fancy reception, one you weren't invited too but sneaking in made it that much more beautiful. pretty little strangers all dressed to the nines wanting change, wanting something new and there you were. different. new. a change from their typical family and friends scene, you were the different. standing there, almost blending in, your mouth wearing pride like a souvenir you being to sway to the music with thoughts in your head, the ones you want to share with someone, the words that have risen from your lungs lay flat on your tongue and as you toy with the notion of spilling them over, over someones ears, you spill your glass and your spotted, the outsider. the different. the one who doesn't belong and you go from blended to exposed and you and your spots, spots like a dalmatian are asked to go.

Love On The Rocks

you deserve the world, you know that right. don't tell yourself any different. you deserve everything and anything, and you don't need one person to be that end all and be all. good company and good things, they are the finest things in life, a good person who loves you is a beautiful thing, but don't be discouraged when you don't have the one but you've got a solid group. that group is rooting for you and when you do stumble upon the one and feel so worth wild do not forget those who are rooting for you on the sidelines. don't be discouraged. they love you. love is a tipsy notion, it keeps you wanting, fills you up to leave you empty. we love to hate it but we hate to love it. falling over thoughts and thinking crazy things, love blowing up all around you and you feel so unloved. don't. stop. right. there. stop in the name of love. for you are a beautiful thing and you don't need one person to tell you that or that group of ten, you tell yourself and you believe it in like those die hard soccer fans, paint your face with your love and rock your team pride, for you deserve that best of the best, whatever you'd like, and you'll always be alone, just learn that now, don't let it crawl into your mind and in effect you. for together we stand alone and alone we stand together. love. you've got it. don't you forget it. so go ahead, pour yourself a short glass of love, on the rocks.

Buying Stylish Religion

we're all dancing in each other's misery.
sing me a song of ghosts and polite apologizes.
tell me all the wonderful things you want to know,
and the dark things that you know from experience.
shed darkness on my light, electrify my lust.
falling into a vat of dreams. dreams i've conjured
up inside of me and spread on thick like jelly to toast.
quicksand kisses, storming at my feet like waves of
a red sea, murky and hazy, calculating the precise moment
of my fall. falling. and i couldn't be drowning any slower.
wandering in on wonder making love to desire, the potion
it's creating is toxic and enchanting, beautiful and demented.
tormented ideas flood my sensory capacities and i can't
help but want you, all of you. the idea is naked.
exposed to the world for eyes to poke and examine,
for hearts to swarm and shatter. and tongues to crave
it's taste. wild minds flicker at the possible contact.
a surge of reckless moments inflaming a already
weak mind and sleep will not bring on slumber for
you cannot rest. the sight of you making mouths,
hearts, words, and souls quiver at the pure image.
vivid. naked. succulent. flamboyant - lust.
addicted, and you're know full well.
the symptoms are there, your vitals
are shot and you cannot focus on anything
other than these liquefied thoughts that
have you swimming in a constant swirl
of touch. of talk. of questions and of answers.
lighting up a skinny smoke as if the fumes
it will give off, will you give you answers
like the shake of an eight ball you wait..
eyes peered to the sky, and your buying
religion like it's just came into style.

A Want As Strong As Men

You want it. You want it so badly your willing to do just about anything. Secrets? You can have them. What can you say, you want it. All the fancy things, all your hopes and dreams, take them. You want it. Driving miles and miles, writing letters - words upon pages and pages. You want this. You've got to have it. Addicted to your drive, the motivation is vital. You want this and you won't back down, you won't stop, you won't shut up until you've got this, you want this. Your trying for something your not even sure will span out, but the outcome doesn't even matter. A want so powerful, you've diced up your cool and are selling it by the chunk. A heart full of want and your not even sure where it came from. It doesn't matter, you want this. You've got to have it. A want as strong as men, fighting for a country that doesn't even belong to them. Your putting up your dukes for something your not sure you've got to defend, but you'll defend your want because you feel it in your bones, its all around you. You want this. You want and want and your not going to stop until it doesn't want you.