Boys With Names Sippin' Drinks Called The Same

they say if your going, to take your heart and guts. blonde haired disco divas slammin' back shots. twisted little faces, puckering their mouths and temptation sure does look good after a couple of shots. highway driving in the middle of suburbia. bandannas in our hair but we really aren't giving up. pretending we have secrets while we sip our cups. swimming in pools full of cocktails and we aren't losing much. game face on but the game is over.meeting different people, trying to get closer.watermelon chap stick has got things magnified,and boys can't help but collapse at this disguise.summer sun lightening our vision high heels got us on a whole other mission. dipping into pools that belong to our neighbors,high five idealistics got everything on fire. plastic money to buy their plastic dreams.the all American present is getting reamed. global ambition and we're "rolling in the deep"sugar cube mentality, and tongues looking suspicious glorified fashionistas, pretty boy kisses old school games with old school drinks - modernized playground of jacks and jacks. no ball, no plastic pieces. boys with names sippin' drinks called the same.

Verbal Ambition on a Suicide Mission

verbal ambition on a suicide mission. things got you stumbling, straight tripping and putting your wishes, those wishes, on hold, call waiting - next ticket? writers block because it won't slow down, minds on fire and the sirens are loud. chaotic appeal shaking up the world and there's nothing straight about this curl. curve your attitude, wake up it's all brand new, and you've got to want it- to need it and need it to want it. mixing up the rights and wrongs, everything sounds good when your listening to those songs, dance moves suddenly catch your body off guard but the words are forming and they're coming on strong. dressed up, dressed down, the words are naked to the sound, pushing statements of actuality, can you hear the war on tragedy, punctuating the causalities and they don't know why they do what they do but they do it with pride, eyes to the sky, no looking down for the ground is what will surround you in the long term and we don't have to time, for we've got the short term and in that term it's your turn so what are you waiting for, make a move before the snakes come and get you and down the ladder you'll go - before you get drawn into this life, and life is a game, not a game show no complimentary prize, or big flashing banner, when the game is over - hello sleepy manor.

Lathered In Confidence

patching up mouths with other mouths, searching your eyes for your heart and your hands for your tongue. countless details, remembering each and every one of them. tears fading into smiles and memories rewiring into present day and your suddenly captivated by this new found glory, this trophy of beauty is now resting on your navel and we shall kiss until the stars electrify this map of marks that we will connect like dots. firefly motions and sparks just the same, not fourth of July but you wouldn't know the difference because the fireworks you've got are those of a celebration and it's caressing this notion that things don't make sense, and you aren't about to pick them apart, picnic mode, it's up for grabs and you want it all, you want it bad. dancing to the melody of a song you can't remember, searching the radio for something stronger, cheers to no one in particular, you just really need a drink, heart dancing, you can feel it in your feel. and ruffling up the world won't make it concrete, idling on this coaster. in heels that bring you that much closer, accessory of nudity and you aren't about the cover up, sun kissing you in places you want to be touched, stumbling into a big heap of flaws, but when your this naked, what could go wrong, lathered up in confidence, dance moves taught as if you were in combat.

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.

The Sky Felt Lower Today

i don't think you would understand if i told you exactly how i was feeling at this exact moment in time. you wouldn't understand and i wouldn't expect you too. if i told you that the sky felt lower today, that it felt like it was inches from the top of my head, would you nod and smile as if you knew what i was saying, but really you didn't and you wouldn't ask me to explain because not knowing was better then knowing. if i casually told you that i felt like dying, would you twist your face up like i was crazy and think of ways to get me committed. you would ask me questions of suicide and i would laugh them off because i really didn't mean i wanted to kill myself i simply meant i wanted to feel the action of not feeling anything ever again but you would worry and i would see it in your forehead but you wouldnt press any further because you didnt want to feel connected to my thought of dying, you wanted to live the next minutes, hours, days even, disconnected from what i had said incase i did in fact die. you wouldnt understand and you wouldnt want too and i would understand that. if i expressed extreme dissatisfaction would you give me your same old generic pep talk and carry on your day, you would, and i wouldnt mind, because i would know it is coming and would express my dissatisfaction just to get it out of you, because as unhelpful it really is, in some way it's better to hear it than to hear nothing at all. if i explained to you my reoccurring dream would you brush it off like any other dream, would you tell me i was taking things too seriously, that i should forget it. you would and i would see this coming but i would tell you all about it anyway, to seek a reaction out of you, to shed light into parts of me you know are there but dont want to be part of because they scare you. i dont think you understand and i understand that. its not meant to be understood, a lot of it i dont understand myself but i understand you and your rush to get through it, an obstacle in your life i often wonder if i should keep at bay.

Fizz Takes Hostages

A gem kept underway. Hid from the eyes of those who've neglected it for so long. Time after time and minds cannot be made, beds left sprawled from late nights in the bedroom, fresh coat of cherry red on lips that whisper impure things, want to hear it louder, begging for it louder. Wild ideas capturing buoying fate and a landscape of mystery rests upon feet, feet running from a beast that lays within and casts glances to things it has suddenly fallen in love with. Over cast on this idea of something stronger. An incredible degree of pain has risen to the tip of the glass and we poke at the bubbles like carbon in soda. An unnerving fizz takes hostages in the altitude of kindness and we can't help but question it.

I Dare You To Be Naked

textiles on the run and we dare to be naked, dream to be naked. naked in the world full of clothed minds, closed minds. land mines waiting for our naked feet to get tangled in a mess of mixed up hope. crystallized hearts chipping in the sun and we want naked reassurance that you won't close the door on our silhouettes. we all want naked, to be naked, for everyone else to be naked, but we can't afford it. we can't afford to not be clothed. our secrets, our dreams, our ambition.. naked. we just don't have the money, the time or the truth for it. we all want to be naked. we all want to see each other naked, naked. it's sexy and surprisingly deliciously but scary, so scary. the exposure, oh the exposure.. pornographic fear and we're all longing for that naked excitement, that sheer sensuality of the word. naked, it even sounds naked and naked does feel naked but the naked body and your pride, naked, to the world. eyes, naked eyes on your naked accessories, do you have the time. the strength, or the ability to believe it. to do it. to indulge it. i dare you. I dare you to be naked.

Lush Ruby Lipstick

isolating the thought of you. looking over your shoulder so that i can check you out, as you walk into the street light. i like the shadows, as they dance across your skin, your skin is the perfect gift wrap to a soul as luminous as yours. writing a secret on the palm of your hand. letting you try to roll it around, inspect it - dissect it. will you keep it forever or will you wash it off. leave it where it belongs, the past. beautiful lips full of words, laced with emotion. feel them in my atmosphere as you liquidate your senses. skeletons in your closet, dancing on top of the world. cutting all ties to beauty. without the happiness you cannot understand pain. and without pain you cannot truly grasp happiness. tears of passion, passion full of tears. sauntering into the wild. prints of flamboyant affairs rimmed with glitter. cocktails. drunk. spiralling actions and if dancing into you will make this song longer i will continue to spin and unspin. dressing for a lavish escape, one with a plot and lipstick. many tubes of lipsticks, writing your name on the mirror in a ruby shade. telling you my goodbyes in swift loopy writing, painting my lips with the same shade. kissing that mirror as if i am kissing your lips one last time. isolating myself from the world. isolating myself from you. not pretending anymore that you aren't something too me. painting pictures of you in my mind, all in a shade of lush ruby lipstick.

The Prize Is In The Prize Is In The Prize

shaking bones so that you can remember your alive. death all around you, but don't give up yet. dancing in the leaves of a autumn that has passed. lovely prophecies correlating to cohesive material, material you've saved scraps of. thinking thoughts that feel like items you've bought at the mall. smooth, precious, materialistic finds that have taken up residence in your head. your eyes. looking at the world with clever tricks, and thrills that you wouldn't give up for anything, not even groceries. teeth, biting into skulls and keeping knowledge tucked right under your belt. bandana issued crisis and your up for a challenge. dangerous appeal ducked in ambitious pride and the prize is in the prize is in the prize. cinematic love stories all ending in a tragic heart break but while drinking champagne, even the finer things aren't start to appear bubbly. intoxicated off a rush that hit you a million miles an hour and you liked it, you sometimes walk with your chest out and your head to the sky so you can position your heart beat to go in sync with your foot steps waiting for that hit again and again. light bulb energy and a trunk full of yesterdays. letting the serious loose with it's best friend optimism for she's having a night on the town, something you couldn't believe would happen now.

Light Me Up Like A Cigarette

Light me up like a cigarette. Roll my name around your mouth and tongue the idea of me. Take a long draw on the thought of me. Flick the ash off to the side, flick it as if you need it to go away as if it would leave me exposed. Light me up like a cigarette and let the smoke bellow into your atmosphere, allow me to seduce you like a smoke signal. Light me up, again and again. Light me up like a cigarette and inhale the length of me, exhale the satisfaction. Inhale. Exhale. Light me up. Light me up. Kiss me like you'd kiss the filter of your cigarette, an addictive kiss of wanting the long cool feeling of the entire entity within you. Feel me in your lungs, puffing towards something concrete. Light me up like a cigarette. Keep me close to your heart, like the pack of ciagrettes in your inside lapel pocket, close to your heart. Feel the smooth packaging of me lightly bounce across your chest, inside your lapel jacket, as you walk to a location to light me up. Light me up. Light me up. Enjoy me like your cigarette, savour me. Light me up with a liquid of intoxication colours on the rocks. Light me up in the low light, with the bass booming against your thighs. Light me up in the morning, after you awak and see the sun. light me up in the afternoon while the people cross the street. Light me up over a late night cup of coffee, under the stars, while the moon spotlights you. Light me up with you. Light me up like a cigarette. Light. Me. Up. Cigarette lover.

Beating Hearts Contemplating Hope

i want to tell you that everything will be okay, but truth is. i don't think it will be. are you willing to survive. to set aside all weary thoughts. to lay your heavy heart across the sunlight and let it become light, as it fills with just that. do you want me to tell you everything is going to be okay, even if i don't believe it. i can do that, tell you things. empty words filled with empty promises and leaving you full, but soon the taste will leave your lips and you will feel just that, empty. praying to the stars, as if they can save you. a galactic force pressing into your temples, searching for hope. hope and despair hangout together at the local cafe and sip lattes. it's a pretty ironic scene that touches even the most uninspired bloke, but while eyes search the sky, do you realize what is passing you. pray to the ground, so that you feel more connected. turning off the telephone too keep the outside at bay, to stay connected to yourself in a closed space, your mind teetering on the verge of contemplation. contemplating me, contemplating you. eyes from the floor to the ceiling and you can't remember what you were in search of. say hello to windows. for they peek inside you like visitors at an art gallery, examining you. your beautiful structure so abstract, that the complexity is frighteningly brilliant. stuttering with words so familiar to you that the new direction, the content, is overwhelming your soul. for i know what desire feels like and we long for the opportunity to feel it, again and again. lusting for hope. do you still wish for me to tell you that everything will be okay. do you believe that everything will be okay. what is your definition, your platform of okay. because everything might be as it is and that in itself could be very okay. twisting melodies to songs you know the words too but dare not utter them for their meaning has new found meaning to you and your beating heart. beating hearts contemplating hope.