A Bad Excuse Is Better Than No Excuse At All

That fragrance streaked across my good times. The rush and hush of hurried hands, tongues, and minds. Sprinkling your touch all across my body and calendar. Undetermined consequences but understandable affection and attention and a strong sense of caring and not caring. Caring for you and not about those who see it, with peering eyes but peering into the eyes whom hold care for you too. A feeding frenzy of uncontrollable like, a severe case of want and a budding sliver of need. A pressing point of pressing, me pressing into you, you pressing into me and the best slumber I've ever had. Tangible slumber that mimicked tangible times and suddenly I'm exactly where I didn't want to be but I'm starting to get the feeling that I just want to be where ever you decide to be. Shame on me. Polishing shoes, getting ready to step over and right on top of those who are in the way of what I'm feeling, because suddenly I am fleeting, and not just with the emotion but the motion in action and the time to act is now, if I don't shake and shimmy that I can't complain, a bad excuse is better than no excuse at all.

Shut Up and Talk to Me

Jumping jack emoticons and this is nothing but a text message love affair. Adding and subtracting, letters from words to make them appear less meaningful. “Luv” replaces love and “I want you”s linger on the literary disaster of “wanna chill”. Electronic hugs and kisses making up for a physical connection. Connecting to WiFi is seemingly more important than connecting with each other, on a more personal level. Charging batteries so hearts can beat longer, we are already living in a robotic age, where we have come to grip what were feeling with the buttons of a keyboard. Goodnight turning into “gnite” and good morning were a thing of the past. Chivalry is not dead mind you it has taken on an entire new form, an entire entity of wave lengths, instead of holding doors we hold Blackberries and iPhone, instead of politely saying your departure you text acronyms like “GTG” “TTYL” in a word where languages are a everywhere, we slack on the very essence of what we want to say to obtain what we want. Don’t text it to, say something to me, anything, don’t talk to me in your letters and half slacked words where you have gone an sawed off the flavor of the words. Say something. Shut up and talk to me.

Match Make You Over

The object of your eye, attainable. However, the ruins you have decided to sleep in keep you from obtaining and have you restraining from admitting just exactly what you want to admit. Full of wants. You want this and that and some of this and some of that, like Frankenstein's bride. Match make you over and keep whatever you want for spare parts. Access denied. You are disqualified because it is clearly recognized you aren't worth the trouble. Tripping on ideas, and loose ends. Trying them out for size, glistening post-its of happiness keep you reeling in more and more and the hourly addiction to whom you are attracted to begins a frenzy in your membrane and you take two steps forward to take twenty steps back and we're at exactly at the pivotal moment of walking on, moving on. The action of gathering one's pride and stuffing it into their pockets so they won't have to carry on their shoulders, and the action of pushing.. Pushing your feelings all the way down

Forge the Fornication

Frazzled fights on fiery nights and bedazzled embezzlement keeping what you don't want buoying on the rim of a salted glass. Contents of the weak hearted slowly spilling from a puncture that happened and was ignored, an ignorance with the potential of bittersweet symphonies. Songs with lyrics that aren't easy to remember. A remembered moment of toppling passion doused in heat. Getting so hot, so quickly with images of you on an overhead projector, a projector of emotions being beamed crossed the room into the candy dish and I'm encouraging your fingertips to rifle through it and pick out the pieces you want, it'll fit your ego like a 100 piece puzzle but your bound to be tipsy with your actions and drop the most important piece right under the sofa and hurried eyes will all see it happening but in their minds, they'll doubt you, you and your ability, the seriousness of ownership and lessen their pride for you because your throwing social obscenities into a crowd of strangers, strange to you comfortable to me and the candy dish will be as empty as it was full, of star cuts of my mind, because someone there soon realizes their is more to those pieces than your tipsy fingers will ever realize. Morning accusations but its way pass 7pm and evening delights with the softest hint of decapitation, slice the air from my lungs and bottle it for the sun, for newest heights will not force you to forge the fornication and wake up on the verge of hesitation, the time is slowly ganging up on you and slowly pushing things in other directions and its swimmingly slow and you don't even know if you sped up just seconds prior you wouldn't misplace exactly what your after. After all your misguiding yourself to a belief you don't believe in but conforming to the comfortability of the way it all swings left.

Midnight Snack On My Heart

Consensual adoration on a blistering nerve that seems to bubble and twist at the slightest membrane wander in a direction I've been undirected too. Good morning inspiration. Waking up with the urge to tackle what I've been trying to say for months. Summer heat no longer at my feet and fall please don't push me to fall any further than what I've already done. Good afternoon confusion. Where your morning inspiration is suddenly bombarded with thoughts and feelings, over sensing the entire situation, making the situation a conflict and being conflicted by such monarchy of self imposed puzzlement. Good evening understanding. Full circle kick and your back to the acceptance, to the slow steady beating of thought and heart to the exact same inspiration, like the sun and moon, full cycle. Sleep seems to be enough to saunter it all together, a present in a dream. Midnight snack on my heart.

A Potion in the Sky to Filter Our Senses

triumph, this dump, are you ready to stand up. for what you want, a little bit of who knows what, and you don't care because they don't care and i've learnt that cares get you no where. wake up, in the dark and realize your just as smart, as you'll ever be, and what are smarts to a person like me, running off of energy, and i'm prepared to take another shot to chalk it up, and i'm not going to back down for your sake, i'm walking away, look at how lovely this is turning out to be. focused on the quarter machine prize because instant luxury might be better than long term goals and we're feeding the fire with less and less coal but it's seeming to grow out of control, we're dancing with no music on and sometimes this is the best way to do it, toppling over the idea of this and the image of that, but suddenly searching faces for more and more frets, don't sweat this moment. empowering the power that i've won, taken from a place that i must've been hidden from. breaking down doors, for a little more air, where has all the freedom gone in here, punching out windows for the perfect amount of light but if we had it our way it would always be night, except for that moment we do decide to dash, a little mixture of both would be acceptably clad, for a potion in the sky to filter our senses, i'm a little stoked to start this venture. packing my bags and no where to go yet, departure is undecided but i'm already half way out the door, and i'm not prepared to stop, for obstacles i do invite, and triumph, triumph.. everybody prepare to fight.

Colossal State of Confusion

The constant questioning of you, me, us, and them. The constant push and pull of doing what's right, but what is right and what is wrong. Are you happy? I can't tell, all I know is that your pulling on my heart strings here, and I wasn’t even sure I had any left. Stop making me so aware, hyper aware of what is going on, of what I want, because I know what I want I cannot have and what I have I'm trying to deal. I'm trying to make this easy, comfortable, but I was more comfortable before. Why are we pulling teeth, we aren't dentists and our truth does not lie in our teeth, it is in your heart and your head but they wont agree so your conscience is trying to punch them out, trying to make sense, but your are confusing me and confusing them and us and you and this is just a colossal state of confusion that I wasn't invited too, but I arrived on time with ample words to pry into things I thought I wanted to know, no, the things I still want to know but you will not tell me them because you don’t know just as much as I don’t know and my wants settle, they accept but then you come around and they burst and they are questioned and tempted and this temptation is causing me a heart attack, please don’t hurt me. Make up your mind, your like a joker in the deck of cards, so out of place, but perfectly placed and get to come and go as you please, with being missed to not being noticed but when you choose to be noticed your noticed and it's affecting, effecting, bubbling all around. A violent fight of words and feelings, nothing physical, but I want to be physical with you. I'm no longer fearing these things that have expanded within me, because I understand where they are coming from, and they are out of my control, sign the paper, send you back, write off - exhaust, what is happening here. What do you want? Can I ask you again. What do you want and whom is this all for because your destroying everything in your path while on your victory lap of making everything right, put up a fight, a battle for your wants, because I can no longer tell you about mine, it is all wasted time. Won't you waste time with me. Your time and mine. I'm a billionaire on the clock and I want to spend it all on you, but your actions and words don’t walk the walk and your nothing but talk and your changing your mind with the movement of the sun, and your pushing me away while trying to get close, and your ships are all mixed match your playing this game that doesn’t appeal to me.. A game I wasn’t prepared for and teetered with joining, and now I've some how wound up in it and I can't I can't I tell myself easily, but then your around and I'm doing everything wrong, a conflicted conflict that I want to be evicted from. A simple grade school tactic, with the yes and the no and the boxes for silent x's that mark exact moments in a pivotal time.. Is this pivotal for you yet?

Your A City

a beautiful dance we've mastered with such radiant knowledge. you know, i know but they say the first step is admitting you have a problem, we are such a perfect problem. floating hope, like the optimistic do, casting their minds to the side and allow themselves to forget it all. i can't forget, but i choose to remember, and i'm feeling. feeling like a city.. all bright and alive all busy and running. we're running. we love this run, a run for our money a run for our time. lost in our minds in ourselves. i'm swimming within your thoughts and i'm drowning in my thoughts of you. this is a different kind of lifestyle. magazines have not yet glorified what we have found in one another, and no cosmo quiz could determine your gooeyness you have found for me. are you tired, from running, running around my mind and counting all the songs i've linked to pieces of you, times and moments, all shared so quickly that when the radio decides to play them i have snapshot adventures with all the things ive said, ive done. can i say more, do more, im really trying to do this right. but what is right! this city doesn't help me and i cant help myself and i cant help myself. i'm drunk at an AA meeting, and you've tagged along with me, like i stumbled in with the bottle.. half empty, totally warm and aroused with the embers of it's contents swimming in me. is this a city or a pool.. an ocean or a night club because the effects of you are all over me and i cant help but like the way they make me feel. im feeling like fire. like winter and snow. im hot and cool but not mean and icy, im struggling to keep my heart in my pocket, please dont fumble with my pockets. the beating is spreading so quickly, through my body and this is like an earthquake, there goes all the good and all the bad within this city and there goes everything into the ocean and i cant breath but im breathing in the depths of you and im trying to throw my valuables in the vault. this and that, to save them from this severe water damage that is bound to make us wishy-washy about everything but im not. and your not. and i cant. and you cant. and you could, but you wont and i wont but i could and i should stop this and you should stop that and we could start that without any of this, and why is this the easiest hardest thing ive ever done, my heart a tangle of twizzlers, a sweet sticky heaping mess of the best thing i cant shake.

Self Greed, For the Things Within Me Are Mine

Single people riding the bus. Single handily taking all the spaces where single thoughts will ride from each single stop, swiftly getting on, singly getting off. Single people walking down the street, in massive groups, disguising the singleness, and each single day merging into each single week, each single month, each single year. A single decade of single hope. Single greed, clouding up single ambition and single moments colliding into a single emotion. That sane emotion cutting and dividing into a single attribute and that same spot of consistency hurrying at the single education of single atonement. The forever turmoil of regrouped singleness to mirage the concept of forever we stand alone and alone we stand alone, a better friend of mine than those clustered together, sharing a brain and a heart and a thought and often shoes and pants. Self greed for the things within me are mine.

Let's ZigZag

unsure of where i'm stepping, i might step on you and not even notice. my eyes seem to be pulling to a whole other dimension these days, and for sometime, they have settled on you. it's not a big predicament, and i don't want you to up and walk away because of the pleading of my pupils. does this make you feel uncomfortable because the sudden comfortability of my soul is nerve racking. go ahead, guess who, i'm willing to give you more than i think ever and i think everyone will notice, a constant notice, ads wanting to push into my space, look into my place and i want to take you there. randomized issues bubble poppin' at the incidental things i'm about to open and the constant hurried madness of my foot steps to the abrupt slowness of it all, is strange. i must tell you this doesn't happen, not with the sun, not with the rain and now i've got nothing and i'm want to give you everything and that indeed could flare up unreasonable problems, but let's have problems, let's make things break and fix them, i'm scared, may i borrow your hands, to cover my eyes and feel your heart beat within your fingertips suddenly flutter on my eyelashes and blood with strengthen and truth be told, i've got many truths to spill on the canvas.

Rich Heart > Saucy Soul

The awkward confrontation of a fear that isn't purely a fear. I mean the probability and constant infatuation with the stupidity is irrelevant to the destinations that will be tripped on. Lace me up, to tie me down, to break free, run away, rich heart > saucy soul. Open spaces that are confining the creative energy bouncing at my temples, squeezing the momentum from my finger tips, causing elastic smiles and bewitched expressions. The weathered marks on unmarked substances, smoking up in a chaotic relief the disrespect of not dancing and raising your beliefs to the drop, that dirty thriller shock that will have you twisting in your skin within blinks of silly eye lashes, dusted is the most elegant of charms, glitter from the glitz and this sure ain't the valley, Love bug. With all the bows and delicate sauce you think you require your temperamental shine is quite dull and in retrospect we are all rooting for the other team, this time, last time, its not the right time for your time so settle down and get with the time. The restraint with to much, not enough, just the right amount of nothing. Stop. Drop. Roll on over here, take a look at me. Open window concept and your talk is cheap, no cents, no refund, step back - finish it, your full cup of bullshit, excuse me, waiter - shell take a refill.

What Time Have You Got There

predicament, and this is looking less and less like a problem every day. wording, in the wrong sequence, wrong time. what time have you got there? can you afford, to spend a little time, on me, on this, on whatever your thinking. thinking, what exactly are you thinking and where are thoughts leading you, misleading, deceiving, don't you dare try leaving. a constant tug-o-war type scenario, and this isn't my scene but i'm really going to enjoy it. actualities and technicalities and things that make you do other things, things you've provided vital information to yourself to not let up, and there you go, lifting up all the bridges jumping at the opportunities, calling shots, taking off the bullet proof vest, this cannot be save, lock me up in the safe, where i keep just about everything, but ill give you the code, maybe a couple of numbers off, see what you can do, good luck, secretly im rooting for you. cheerleader ambition and im falling off the fence, certainly trespassing now, on your mental stability, i am unstable. balancing on nothing and just about testing the waters with everything i've got. what in the world is up with that. roger that, skeet skeet, can you handle that?

Fall into the Fall with the Summer Heat

Load the water guns with the perfect amount of whiskey on the rocks. Somersault into my summer heart, and pray to Rock Jesus that you make it backstage to pay your respects to exactly what you believe in. Climb a tree for a better seat and call my name to the stars and when the fireworks do appear, take a picture with your eyes and look into mine so I can see what you've seen, what you see in me. Heart beats so loud they become a track on our favourite road trip play list and I can't help but try to swim inside your mind and leisurely make you feel at home. Can I kiss you already. Claim you to be mine and tell you everything I know. Happy summer days and a pocket full of candy, taste this just for laughs and you'll remember this forever now, no past no present no time wasted because I've got tons of time to spend and I want to spend it all on you. Can I make believe what's real to me, talking into your puckered lips so that you can kiss what I've got to say, and savor the taste on your tongue. Beautiful faces and beautiful times and the times are beautiful right now, don't question it. What are you feeling. What's in your heart and when will all of you, in an entirety, unite and feel something so cohesive that you might want to end the summer with a shot for you and a shot for me and well fall into the fall with the summer heat still at our feet.

Alive, Are We?

feverish pigments, on a darkened night. and the gooeyness of a silly putty mind. the directions are clear, but the feet are stumbling towards them, taking long ways and short ways and zigzagging through everything shiny. mucking up the easy stuff too make it a little harder, but i don't think the object of this is to make it harder, or to get out of it. alive? are we. running to and away within the same moment and the constant tug of war that is building on the membrane, wobbling the knees, and kicking the heart. butterflies injected with heroin, because we aren't sure who's the junkie. what's the junk. the thrill of nothing and the nothing of the thrill. the upside and sideways side, the point of view, and lasting flavour, bubble gum? the chipping at it. the ins and outs of it. the curiosity. are you, curious? the the threaten of the death that comes with it.. do you want it, indulge in it. do you mind, if i ask you a couple of questions and a few more. and i might never stop asking. i'm going to die, i've figured that much out.

Satisfy My Dissatisfaction

Crumbling aspiration and a pipe lined with dreams, where's the draino? Interesting predictions for a brave heart and eyes that pick the pixels out like candies. Toe tapping chimes to the time and just what time is it? Starlight, star bright oh darling which way is right, the right makes sense or was it cents. Worse times for hiccups and yet I cannot control my laughter. Grinding your toe into the hopes of a root beer float. Hmmm, float. Satisfy my dissatisfaction, kiss me quite correctly and how will you be paying for that. I'm in the slums of suburbia, you didn't realize it as much as it was a surprise to me. The green of a stop light and its making me sick, the constant fleeting change of mind, GO. Wait, SLOW down, just you STOP right there lemon drop. Bags filled with the utensils of creativity, doesn't mean you've got it. Cast your written words aside and flush your emotions down with the actual action of making a move because this Jenga game in your head is only driving you crazy, show me your bricks before you break your own back with the pressures you've decided to fill your knapsack with.

We're Making Plastic Out of Us

this is just a hot mess of words and feelings and there is no reason we can't stop, we've really got to stop. I'm tired of the run around and you sitting on your throne, with the most beautiful of scenery, and I'm tired of you telling me things that are true and you try to make them not true and never apologizing, but that might be the only good thing about this because i really don't need any more sorries filling my pockets, my mind, my heart. I'm done. so over this and that and i say it all the time, i am such a typical cliche when it comes to matters of you, but I'm running and I'm running fast, I'm getting out of this burning building that is so pretty watch and warms me but it is ultimately destroying me, the flames are legit laughing right at me. flammable tearaways and runways looking cool, a boarder line of rags and garbage because that is what were doing here. taking a good thing, like a martini, but shaking it up in the worst ways possible, even stirring this heart would cause hearts to stop. We're making plastic out of us. Plastic meltable emotions easily moulded and bendable to the minutes in which we encounter together and this is all false, false advertisement, false hope, false affection.. Because if any of this was actual, it would be happening naturally and we wouldn’t have to steal moments because id have all the time in the world to spend on you. We're making jokes out of each other, you and me. Laughing fools in a furry of ins and outs and ups and downs and you don’t even like roller coasters, what the hell. Can we stop, this constant, like like like hate hate like like like, the contrast is awful and I cant tell if we have a ship of any kind because the water is evaporating and overflowing and this is just a rush of the elements, hot and cold like a random Katy Perry songs but I don’t want to kiss a girl, I'm still trying to kiss you, and it's got to stop.

Down the Bottle, Sleep with the Empty

The encouraging urge of your defeat winding me up and casting diamonds on my skin. This isn't a vampire story because we don't want blood but if the opportunity rose I couldn't beg you differently for the likeness of rage has empowered my motivation to breath and were playing tug-o-war with our surroundings, we've got first class treatment to our idiocy. Maniac attention blubbering from pores and skin feeling toxic but exhilarating. I'm drunk! I'm drunk! So drunk off images of you, I can't help but down the bottle and sleep with the empty and trying to tongue out that drop, that little pinprick of yourself your giving up to be. An occasionally I am not left sad by the fact of you for my tongue will get a swift taste sending my atoms into a frenzy all harmonizing together singing give me more, give me more, give me what you've got baby, give me more. Talking myself into a drunken stupor, using the bottle to hold the embers. Dancing in the shadows of things we want, going through the garbage for things I think you've gotten rid of, but foolish me can't believe your still holding on with a grip like mine, were fighting for the same things at different times, with different company, and in a world where you and I could rule.. the company is important now, the factors are all X-ing me out.

I Believe You Are A Belief I Believe In

i think of you more than i realize, more than you know. you hold a creative spot within my soul. simply popping up, in random little places, but always the places i seem to cherish the most. a beautiful little tag, on the corner of a stop sign, the perfect colour and position, the emblem of someones talent. in the moment that my eyes gaze at this piece of art, i think of you. there was a chip in the road, not a pot hole or anything to extravagant, but a chip in the road that made me take notice, looking both ways on the road i bent down and let my fingers trace this chip, and immediately i thought i should call you, give you directions to this chip in the road so that your fingers may feel what i've felt because in that second, i thought of you. i'm not going to flatter you and say you are always on my mind, but behind closed eyelids late at night i still see your sparkle. your flamboyant vision, dances softly across my skin and i often try to taste your identity. i believe in you more than others. and this is not a merit to be rewarded too me. i simply believe in your soul. your stride and strive. your are a warrior at all existence. i believe in the thought of you. the idea of you. the actuality of you. i believe in you when you dont believe in you, and when you think twice about yourself, i've always thought once - one long continual beautiful dreamlike thought that is real in all complexities, in all notions, you are a thought i will continue to think of and embrace the contours of your life. you are everything and a belief at that. i believe in you, that is a fact, and if you stray from the science of my mind.. i will always be here to prove you just that, i believe you are a belief i believe in.

A Dislike, I Am Fond Of

going in for the kill, not searching for blood. why bother with a mess that will leave no importance to me afterwards. i dont want the hassle of you, no more. forgetting you, never. i will not give you such satisfaction, as if to forget you would bring you happiness and i am not bringing you anything, of any sort. except i would smile if you frowned at the thought of me because i am still provoking some sort of energy within and that too me is amusing. you are nothing. worthless, entirely. a sliver of mankind that doesn't affect me. distanced, not really but this is my world, and you wont be an advertisment within it. assaulting the scenary, with your empty amunition, im waiting to see just when to react. you think it's over. not really, directly yes. indirectly no. this will constantly remind you in places you never thought it would. and your name will forever be tainted by emotions you have enflamed with actions and sudden dislike. which is fantastic, so chic. i like the way you wear your dislike for me, it shines in the daylight and sparkles in the moonlight, and under the appropriate street light it emulates for all the world to see, and they are suddenly captivated by me, and i am not even around, but the cuffs of your sleeve and the soles of your shoes will be so aware of me that all the people will clap. you will smile in adoration, but note that these people aren't giving you the time of day without recapping on pieces of me, and the encouragement you will recieve to further dislike me will be the perfect bullet. save your compassion for the fakest of hearts, and if you do faint, and fall on the rocks i will be ever to happy to appauld your act, and not for your talent but for the end of the clock.

Will You Run Away With Me Tonight Beautiful

i miss you. and you havent even left yet, i mean not literally. i wake up, in the middle of the night.. in the early morning, and i stretch across the bed, hoping to grab onto you. and i dont. and i wont, and i havent. but silently, i have already marked that place beside me. ive reserved it. called dibs and wrote your name all over it. why wont you, why wont you lay your genius on me. let us be. not in this ship, this moderately acclaimed relationship, that everyone is boarding and unloading at all times, for all causes, without shame without reason. let us be. i want you to take advantage of me. press me. press my mind, my body, my soul. open me up. i want to open you up. close you. reopen, rewrap and ultimately regift you to myself because you always brand new, always something more. sparkling in the evening sunshine, when the moon decides to dance on my affection. i want you. and i will tell you now and forever, i want you. you doubt yourself, and us. i dont think you doubt me but you might but i think you doubt you more and i wish i could kiss your doubt away, make me smile, make me sad.. i know its not what you want to hear but i want you and i want all the things that come with it and i want to experience all of you. the good and the bad, i will have my bad times and my good may not always be to your par but i want you. i want you now and tomorrow and i wanted you before. let my desire, intensity, creativity, passion, lust and love link up with yours and paint this canvas, write our stories. forget it all.. forget these words and what they mean to me. let's go please. will you runaway with me tonight beautiful.