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It started as a dream. The frequent one. The one I dreamed all the time. The whir of explanations. The scribbles of the pen on prescriptions. There was no time to actually see them, rather a fax or a phone call. I pay the bill. $25. It had me all up in arms with the times, but I got through them somehow. Half of one. A full one. Don’t mix it with the energy drink. Don’t drink Gatorade while sitting down. Just don’t do it. Rather do as your told. So I keep them in a pocket. I keep them the safest in the pocket. I remember that day about a month ago. Arguing with the pharmacist. Yelling. I was fucking yelling just saying I needed them now and that I couldn't pay if my insurance didn't work. I didn't get paid till the 23rd, like what could I do? My first dilemma as an "adult". The doctors office was just downstairs, but I couldn't look her in the eye without feeling like i had to tell her something. She has nerve to come in my store and act like nothing ever happened. The toxic that came from my mouth, my brain. The toxic shit in my bloodstream. She knows. I know she knows. And when she leaves she crawls back to her place downstairs. My breaks are now spent avoiding. I can't see it walk around all the time. A confidence displaced. I sit on my break and think about all the things I've ever done wrong. How this is payment for those times. Every single shitty thing I've ever done has come back and punched me in the face. They've spit on me. I felt the pain, the humiliation. I learned in the middle of passing in and out of consciousness that it was never about the fact that it was always public. It was never about perfection or the past. It was about how I could hurt them so blatantly. How could someone who cared for them hurt them so much? See now, it boggles my mind. But all those people have found a way to get back at me. I've lost track if we're even yet. Then again none of this really matters anymore, right?

But when you are under the 200 km mark, remember: you can always turn back. Right away. Always. It’s no real waste if you leave now, as opposed to going and coming home less alive then ever. You'd come home so under the weather, depressed more then ever, then ever, then ever and ever. And though recording the rate of decay is tedious, predictions can then be made. It’s all going according to plan. Foolish games are played. Rematches are less and less occupied. The music all happy. The maps all clear and defined. I know where I’m going, I know where I’ve gone. I know how long it takes to get somewhere. I know how to break someone down. I know how to control people. I also know how to react to bad news that is given. Furrow the brow, change your lanes. When you see the things that throw you off, even in the same city, it still puts your head in your hands.

But then you look up again and it’s fine. It’s nothing, just an echo. It’s not even on your mind anymore, right? Tell yourself something. Make sure you tell yourself something.

Oh. So you chose to go the 400 km. The 800 km, really. Didn’t think of it that way, did you? But you have music. You have music you haven’t listened to in a long time. It made the car ride harder. But then it made it better, because you know all the words. You didn’t think you could sing along, but you did and it felt just fine. So you just run through the list again. Rationalize it for a while. The pro’s and con’s. the plus and the minus’ of schizophrenia(?). The minutes remaining, the hours recording. Did you realize I wasn’t there at all? I wasn’t even looking? You took the 800 km over everything else and this is what you get. We know you’ll roll your eyes when you compromise the spider’s web of messed up heads. It’s not graphic or even cryptic faces, just people getting anxious, their foundations failing. You’ve got a squinting way of loving people, almost there but never real. Hallucinations mounting with your eyes half closed. And then softly, the music’s playing. You can’t hear it yet but you know what you’d hear. A call for RSVPs, a need for it to be locked away, destroy the key. The polls are closed, the votes are in. It’s what I predicted even though I voted different. Not even one, maybe next time. One of life’s set faiths about to begin. That faith as promised to the particular party. They didn’t win anything but I’ll stick with them, the green. I'm sitting concerned upon my couch, thinking of the months ahead, their failing economy. I wonder how it will change things, when people from the states can't throw as much shit around. Trends will change, generations will get worse but then better with time. Until this phases out. Until we deal with the obsession of want. But regardless of the corrupted youth today, there are still residual likable quality's in everyone. It's forced and stressed at best. But it's in the shade of summer time where we accept who will stay with us. So who cares who they are? Why do you have to care who they are?

This leaves me half on the line of wrong and right. I only know so much, can only see so much in the time that I’m given. I’m all for hard hitting exits, always have been, always will. But sometimes I find myself just sitting. It could only be for a mere five minutes but it’s stuck in the back of my mind, all of the time, reminding me, all of the time. Hundreds of times, thousands of time. I knew when I stopped counting I was fine. I know when I use it now in different context I'll be better.

It was more like I was in the corner while they were busy talking, freaking out at the mention. In the back room, bored with the screens, with the same scenes all of the fucking time.

bring up the browser
eyes stray to the upper right here
interested in planets aligning?
mars being closer?
the moon being out more?
and all that other shit?
could it apply?
does it really imply?
my head goes sideways
every time i see it
i wonder if they take it as seriously as they say
(are you as sincere as you seem? or is it all just a ploy?)
i wonder if they craft their movements around the words that they've read

applicable
it's all totally applicable
i'm predicting precessions
i'm anticipating action
and i've betoken the breakdown
from the God in my dreams
every night
and into every next morning
He sits me down on big slabs of stone
surrounded by clouds and fog and haze
He then tells me what's going to happen that day

(sometimes i'm taking notes, writing down all the words, waking up, and doing the same
and then sometimes i'm sleeping, He's still talking, but i'm not listening)

sometimes He speaks of silence
my ears, fine tuned, familiarized
i got the ideas from old paintings
10 portraits
gates of hell
sound quality is what you make it
pen tablet sensitivity could never edit the eyes
nor will they ever fix it
here, we're editing appearance
all of the time

i'll take the best of your bad moods and dress them up to make a better you. 'cause all the company calls amount to one paycheck. i sit around now and try to justify all the reasons why i used to try and sell you out all of the time.

a mistake is a mistake
no matter which games you drag it through or play

Post Impressionism

Impressionism

9/29/08

it's about time to start listing bands again
start picking up the camera again
writing out a plan for every shot
every movement
and i've got to pay up in pictures
trading them for cs3 (or 4, maybe in november!)
i don't even know if you're really following
as if there could be similarity in brain functionality
as if higher education somehow made you infinitely stable

she still has my yearbook
but she's still in peterborough, breathing easier

it's fine
i don't need to look through it to tell that i'm not there

so i try too much, right?
i don't smile enough, right?
i've got these great ideas and...
i start to feel so sick you see
but i know in the end it's you not me

German Expressionism
Die Bruke/ DerBlaue Reiter










wake up, get out of bed
hand on my aching head
living and living just to live
take the stairs at home, ring on the telephone
pick up, it's never who you wish
so call me up, and let it go
or don't pick up the telephone today
so call me up and let it go
well don't pick up the telephone
so circle sun, now let me out
i've had enough, solution found

somewhere between an excuse and a lie, you found something that you believe in. you're so proud, and i guess i can't imagine why. it's so god damn easy to write this, i make it spill off the page. you're so drunk on yourself, so self-righteous. because sometimes i feel like i'm a day away, just a day away from everything i want to be. then tomorrow comes and i realize i'm where i was just a day ago tonight. dawn goes down today, and there's something i've got to say. i've said this 1,000 times but hey... i'm going to make it my way.

they'll tell all my friends
and they'll tell all my enemies too

my arms are all twisted
the only thing i miss is
i messed up
i missed it
i messed up

well i don't even know what it's like not to go back
and i don't even know who i like less
stress, stress, stress

ah, but then time re-convinces me

the littlest
amplitude
of tiny blows on sundays
it's steady
and it worsens
to the end of every week
till it's blinding
lights are shining
and the room becomes "camera obscura"
all upside down
but crystal clear
i won't admit that it's worse here
the music i listen to now
all about jesus
yet i can't find it in me to believe it
and every time i go offline
a certian plane lands again
i refuse to believe
so i blame it on coincidence

though i remain unconvinced

i've had enough,
said enough,
felt enough
i'm fine now.

what are you running from? taking pills to get along. creating walls to call your own, so no one catches you drifting off.

ah what a day today will be
all the things that mean so much to me
see i've got new music
'cause i've been waiting about a year
i even got some tracks down
ones that i don't hate
i don't hate myself for writing them
and the songs, oh the songs
starting to tear up
take what you want
but i won't
no, i can't
i could be hell, or worse
a secret mistake
cold wind in the face
so glad i've replaced
-the irreplaceable

doing favors
overtime
but i'm floating on so much now
so i don't even really mind

got so much writing to do
and a money flow
no debts i owe
i don't owe anybody anything
it's the smallest things
pad of paper you packed just in case
i'm writing fucking symphonies in moleskin's and blackberries
and BAM, there's one day without the milligrams
bar graphs wouldn't do it right
so line graphs show these fickle times
anywhere from 5 to 30 in the bad days and the worse
i keep telling myself
that this would happen
i knew it from the start
even the youngest days
the most innocent, unassuming days
always looming in the mind
always looming, back of mind
i used to think about how it would play out
a tragic comedy
one where we all die
or maybe just me
in the play i saw strained and fake keiastionships
so i stopped right there
there was nothing new
why'd you have to do what you always do?

you lose
you lose

the other day i saw a lady
a lady and her baby
not in a stroller,
rather,
walking sidewalks, holding
it was 10 30 or almost 11 00
and it was cold outside
real blurry
could've been the things in my bloodstream
with it rushing every which way and how
my heart is hurting
then again it really isn't my heart
more so the tissue surrounding
but hell
it hurts just the same
all the muscles livid
at how the lady was still walking
in the moon and all of time
so i got up and went the way they had come
my feet hit the floor running

tired
a work and carly says
"it's all in your head"
gen's laughing, joking, mocking
even karen see's the logistics in things
and how it's all completed so well
all in the strides towards "mental-er" stability

so it's the real rich
and the real poor
who learn to drive stick
regardless of this
i'm still waiting for the first money
a pay off for all that i've done

what's up movement?
i can't control and i can't confess my fear
don't, don't,
everybody has a reason
you cut me off too young
messed up, am i moving?
i can control, but i can't predict my years

certain tragedy when we started off
lessons that i'm learning, i have the world suspended in my hands

with progress we forget
and it's such a sudden tragedy

hey
wishin', listen
look out for me slippin'
i'm switchin' on a steady course

i have shut down generations
i'm lost in the haze of these apathy days
when everyone falls into segregation
but we need someone to blame
'cause the problems remain
-when everyone falls

my heart hurts
but i ain't in love!
i think it's a mix
of these energy drinks
and tamp down pills

my heart is beating faster
yet slower at the same time
till it finds the in between
but isn't that what i would have started with?
so i drew out drafts and blueprints
sorted shelves of notes and their notebooks
re-read my book

but no
there's a difference
for without the fake drugs and sedatives
and without the real drugs, the real real bad drugs
i wouldn't be relying on anything
and i don't know what i'd do if i didn't have that
it's just a delusional reliance on personificated medication

yeah, you're right
i saw it straight through
and all, ALL because,
you do what you always do

neoclassicism and romanticism

on the bus
reading the paper
the signs match up and i'm raising hell here
how could they be walking anywhere?
and why would that be important to me?
but they're walking around
calming their nerves
while i'm sitting at home
wondering why i needed to know
wish i never read it at all
so fuck that
i lied
they'll never synch up

it's in the notion
of the short script
a box so big is pushed in
full of everything, to the brim
then comes along the long run
and the end result?
a cube
about the size of sugar
the ones from church
in those boxes
but i guess you never knew
it's flicked from it's residing pillar
even before it hits the ground;
it's powder
god, it makes me wonder
just what your shoving up your nose these days

but shit
i've got like 50 french poems to read by 6:30
gotta read all the translations
so how can it come back to it?
how can it remind me here?
i've got to get to school
i've got other things to do
got to read the readings
because you don't know what i know
you don't think i know what you know
almost exactly what you've always done and thought

so how will i do this?
how will i tell you exactly the way it is?
a fight always present on the sidelines
out of the ring, out of the limelight

we used to have 1-2-3 living
the 2's and 1's becoming frequent
till 1's are all you have
and even then
when everyone important packs up and goes
for days on end, so bored of this
but you charge ahead like you are fine
till really, really you ARE fine!
but that "till you are" line
was so hard find
like a mirror you're reflective
i gotta admit
i feel it's all coincidence
and no real timing here at all
i had delusions that i should start writing plays
in my dreams, every line, every curtain climb
played out with emphasis and memory
end scene
but no one's really listening

so 1's become the same old quotes
2's are small ideas and anticipation tokes
but it's 3's when i'm really soaring high
then maybe skipping days
early, early mornings are the worst treachery of time
turn the tv on
to see the same news headlines
all of the time
and then i'm running on empty
here,
here's me
me running on empty

see the 1's are the days when i've forgot
2's are the one's where i'm no quite grasping at the perfect balance
3's mean that i'm trying again and still really, badly, wondering
for a shorter moment in the seconds and minutes
getting shorter each time

because it was always so fair here in the mornings
after learning new words through daily indifferent education
and small hours of tomorrow thrive on old sorrows
but really, who remembers?
it was this huge blow
but i kept going
seeking closure, never getting
so i'm here now
care explaining?
my resolution forces me ever forward
it's only my weak side who's running back

they knew, they knew that this would happen

i remember this

this isn't disconcerting,
- it's fake.
so it's not really happening.

He said
"remember, you're tired"
i admitted i was
but i had to write shit down

i'm planning the laughing and cutting edge reality at the end of the song
because there once was i time when i did nothing wrong

safely in houses
we break all the rules
all the things
all the things
that you would need to do

evanescent interest here, in me
and i don't know which way to be

so should i just sit here and keep talking
or should i just sit here and delete everything
it goes both ways in my mind

i wake from my dreams
check the mail
go online
except i never really go online
i never try to calculate the times
5, 10, 20 whatever
i've got things to do
recording's a mess
trying to get the songs down pat
but they keep asking to be changed
in case people take them the wrong way
and i can't have that
i'm so at peace with the fact that they will go semi prime time
in a week or so
i'm so peaceful
reading les fleurs du mal
progress is a thing of the past
now it's all predictable
i can tell you exactly what i'm doing in 2 weeks
i wrote a book of non fiction
though some would argue i made it all up
so now i'm writing fiction
it's SO the place to be
i can pretend that i'm dreaming all the time
and my dreams make it to paper
how fucked up will i make them?

drafts:

8/20/08

i always wondered about your face
where do you sit and wait?
and do you think you're playing games?

spinning round like a dancer's neck
flowing slightly, staying up right
i don't turn the computer on at night

8/21/08

it's all in the songs that you'll never hear
you've returned to me
but you're never near

maybe it's all the same
but it couldn't be anything else
no it's never anything else

8/24/08

i want to translate the story
explain the upheaval
no control
for i've never had any control
every time it rains
days of grey
holding back the mind

when you wake do you check the weather?
so many people
but i blame myself

8/26/08

it's all because you were not strong enough

9/9/08

looking for reasons to bring up the name
but what isn't known is that the names are the same
i make a little mention about the dates and the times
i made a little slip up of the fate and the chances
but i remember how it used to hurt
'cause it used to hurt me so bad
now you're walking sideways
through parking lots
out of safety
out of line

because for living just down the street
i sure as hell see you less then all the other people i meet
the difference is i never want to run into them
i have nothing to say, nothing planned

but for you i'd have words
written down in a book and when you never thought i was writing
well i WAS
i was walking around past the end of our block
thinking "should i just give in?"
set the swing and hear the noise
walk into your backyard and forget all the ploys against me
the ones only just outside the yard

i'm drafting this

to hell with your new shit
and whether or not you think you fit in

i wake up with nothing on my mind
i get on with things
i move up and accomplish things
but then i go downstairs on my computer
i see all the music i found the night before
i try to run away, get away
but no
i get lost and the hours start flying by once again

i imagine myself on fast forward
leaving the setting
mild expression changes
all through the day

hot cold season gonna sink in my sweat
no one is ever gonna make it there yet
can't even cope with it
then it passed me by

fast slow living is holding me back
wishing that you never ever told me that
can't even cope to make it last
then it passed me by

lost all reason for playing these games
better quit staring 'cause you're looking the same
can't even cope to make a change
then it passed you by

i guess the winter will make you laugh a little slower, make you talk a little lower about the things you could not show. it's going to be a long december and there's reasons to believe, that maybe this next year will be better than the last. so, please forgive what i have done. no, you can't stay mad at the setting sun. 'cause we all get tired, i mean eventually, there is nothing left to do but sleep.

the months, though spread out
total about a year or so
a year i wasn't around
it was recorded that i felt empty at times
but did ya know what i found?
a certain place, here on the web
with so many weaker faces
persuasion faces
people at the brink with white flags
sometimes they're barely waving
but most times they're walking slowly,
blindly
looking up
asking about and about and about
asking me questions as if i would know all the answers
but i found that i actually knew all the answers
each question studied,
drafted, and answered
i found myself educated
on how i got past the worst
and oh their reply's
yeah you should SEE their reply's
they say thank you
you've helped me
sometimes i've changed their mind
to anticipate the future times
that were still coming

the thesis of this story:
i thought the upper hand of control was based in one place
but it's really all around me and my second chance has me laughing sideways

today you said you heard my song
and that it made you weak
but then it made you strong
'cause here i am, with open arms
i'll lift you up again
when you fly back in late winter

i was worried
the town you live in is so behind
and where you're staying
will they have phones?
i need them to have phones

but they have phones and internet
i've yet to calculate the time difference
but they set you up
your in school now, on time
you're happier, but you'll never call it home

because bottom line your texts were KILLING me
thousands and thousands of miles away from me
and i couldn't do anything to help
we couldn't just talk it out
like normal

this will be hard, you see
because i tend to work on weekends
and when i'm done
you're out, you see
these weekends still separate your life
and i'm honestly just too tired
but the middle of the week
when i'm up and wired
your sleeping
because you have to wake up early
it's 2 am and i've got nothing to do at all
i'm so fucked and high
with no reason at all

photographs only in black and white
colour doesn't get me like it used to
something about missing miami
it's waters were so damn blue
so i have to be more interested
in the grey scale of the north
and the winter that it's bringing me
otherwise i'll go crazy
the contrast and the midtones
the hue makes everything so seem so unhealthy
so does saturation
so fuck all saturation

i predict that i'll go back
and that i'll have to leave again
it's so hard to get up to go
when you get up
only to be seated once again
and forced for 5 hours
to think about your decision
of coming home again
even though you only wanted to stay right there

THE PLOT OF EVERY STORY LINE I PITCH
SOMEHOW ENDS UP ON THAT FUCKING PENINSULA