Fault lines are static and they cry for anonymity. What we don't know won't hurt us, or so it goes.
They keep our secrets and they blur the lines so that no one else can find us. But they always turn to somber and they ruin most my life.
I'm told that you are perfection and that life is but a privilege. So I drown in hesitation and cling to my own soul. I fall short again and I drag you down to death, and I never make it out and so I'm falling short again.
Feeling close to home and feeling so sublime, your existence taunts my own and I'm all but feeling alive.
Destructive limitations and tiny World War 4s, you're nothing short of enchanting but with me you're fooled and fucked.
Fault lines are static and they cry for anonymity. What we don't know won't hurt us, or so it goes.
The coldest night I ever felt, I spent with you.
I remember when they gave me crayons. Told me to draw if I wanted. Like a child. Like that would make it better.
Do you remember when you gave me a cigarette? My first and last and I was scared. You put your arm around me. Like an equal. Like that would make it better.
I remember that road like the back of my hand. Too many turns. Too many stars. Too many careful curves to buy us time. Like that would make it better.
Do you remember when I told you to stop? I took heed of your feelings and thought I hurt you. I laughed it off. Like that would make it better.
I remember loving you like I needed you. You decided you'd make a bargain instead of loving me back. You gave me cheap magazines in return. Like that would make it better.
Do you remember when you asked me to kiss you? I took too much heed and never told you no. And you kissed me in the moonlight, telling me she can't know. "It's our secret." Like that would make it better.
I remember her saying she wanted me happy. I told her the truth and we cried together for days. She loved me more and she made you leave. Like that would make it better.
Do you remember breaking my heart and mending your own? You wrote love letters and faced God and you deserved a happy home. You begged for chances and started over. Like that would make it better.
All these questions and no answers.
All these feelings and no contentment.
All these urges and no devotion.
There are moments when it seemed okay and then it turned droll.
Ambition is dead.
This is the moment that you know
That you told you loved her but you don't.
You touch her skin and then you think
That she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
Yeah, she is beautiful, but she don't mean a thing to me.
I spent two weeks in Silverlake.
The California sun cascading down my face
There was a girl with light brown streaks
And she was beautiful but she didn't mean a thing to me.
Yeah, she was beautiful, but she didn't mean a thing to me.
Wanted to believe in all the words that I was speaking
As we moved together in the dark.
And all the friends that I was telling.
And all the playful misspellings.
And every bite I gave you left a mark.
Tiny vessels oozed into your neck
And formed the bruises,
That you said you didn't want to fade,
But they did and so did I that day.
All I see are dark grey clouds
In the distance moving closer with every hour.
So when you ask "Was something wrong?",
That I think "You're damn right there is but we can't talk about it now.
No, we can't talk about it now."
So one last touch and then you'll go.
And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more,
But it was vile, and it was cheap.
And you are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me
Yeah, you are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me.
Yeah, you are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me.
The charm that instigates ecstasy and a smile that scintillates even in the darkness; Holy shit, you're absolute danger.
You always knew what to say to make me feel as though my flaws were the best parts about me.
But I burnt us down and made you tell me it's alright.
I have been nothing but embers in the air turning everything around us into flames of artifice for what we really are.
And still you call me love and tell me it's alright and water down my flames and tell me I'm pretty.
You would be a lot easier to take if I wasn't so sure you'd leave me bloodless and dull.
Bloodless like the pretty I'm not and dull like the mind I try to mend.
I'm a master at bad luck. At drinking wine. At saying the wrong damn things at the wrong damn time. At making my favorite people uncomfortable. At ruining friendships and families. At locking myself in dark rooms for fun. At being fucking awkward. At being unsure and indecisive about everything I do. At drowning in my thoughts and then quietly complaining about them to my only friend who gets me. At drooling over anyone who's nice to me. At forcing myself into other people's stories. At keeping all things on the tip of my brain in a tiny jumble of bullshit. At romanticizing everything I want to say seriously. At turning anything said seriously to me into dirty, lustful poetry.
I'm a master at so many things but not a single one is worth it.
Company and camaraderie are years past and now we're merely making amends, so don't speak here again, as knowing how you already feel could not make words hurt less.
Things were fine and love was impersonating what it could under such circumstantial mindless control. Doing it's best, I suppose. Roles were played and hope was lingering and lost. We were left there to sink into each other, stumbling to catch up with our thoughts and outrun our guilt. No truths to be justified. We nearly broke our own hearts and we slightly tortured our trust. We didn't think of the consequences that would occur nor of the tragedies that would embark.
'Oh when I'm an adult I'll have it all figured out and life will be so easy.'
And then as you get older you realize there are no real grown ups and nobody really knows what the hell they're doing."
There are rules and regulations, trials and tribulations, but not one of them paid a visit since the day you held my hand; The day you turned innocence into ecstasy.
These brittle bits of bones withhold everything but a mere determination to take it and run. What's hardly shown is how you stow away the quickening of your eagerness.
What's left alone can only emulate the shattering of your glass and my thoughts, and the burning of your smoke and my courage.
I remember everything you've ever recited as if every moment we had was to be our ever-last.
Take your lies, put them on a pedestal, and multiply that by how many feelings you've ever encountered consisting of guilt and remorse. I'll take my thoughts of you, force them down your throat and subtract the morbid and offensive reminders that were ever so conveniently escaped under lack of self control.
I think we've come to the conclusion that nothing will be as contradicting as what we've done, what you've done and how I prevailed it. Theres no escaping that I feel you under my bones when I'm falling apart. And that I see you during the deepest of inappropriate moments. And I hear you when I'm trying not to hear anything at all. And I think of you when my mind is always at its crest. It follows me straight to my escape and it will follow me straight to my grave.
C'mon, do you really think it was that easy to forget about it? Only you would see me as her. She who doesn't mind. She who enjoyed it. She who exudes satisfaction of keeping secrets. She who craved the attention. She who longed to give you nothing more than ease and happiness and passed down peaks. But I wasn't her and she wasn't me. Your confusion is what put you there and it's how you got here.
You keep my mind at an escalating fear of settlement and apathy and if I could let you out, I would.
That's not so different compared to the facts you've had under control over the years, aye?
Here's to you.
I always notice how you evolve into everything less than that; Everything less than the passion of night. You find the good in the stillness and you break it. You ruin it like a maker ruins his creation when he's so close to fixing it but so far away from finishing. You rip it apart then you start over. Psychotic, to say the least.
You don't notice how accidental you are. You're a mistake trying to take on the best of things when you can barely speak of sound contention. But you're not who you used to be, you're not that close to redemption anymore.
I want you to notice how pathetic you make me feel. I want you to notice how much I despise you and how foolish you make me act when I think of you. I want you to notice that you're strange and you're wrong. The apparatus you've become isn't even comparable to the cataclysm that makes you. You aren't worthy of a moment.
I notice the tragedy; Our tragedy. I notice the things you want to notice yet you never let me stay. I can't hang around because you won't let me see your life in failure. You're ashamed, as you should be. Because you live in a world where breaking happiness is rational and walking upright with your chin high is almost awkward. You live in a world where breathing at a normal pace is so foreign that you've forgotten just quite how to breathe. You live in a world where being in love is repulsive and holding hands is much like that of a criminal attack. You live in a world where I'm allowed no where near your peripheral sighting. Where I'm allowed a nonexistent amount of your wasted time. Where I'm allowed no more than a few unknowing glances past you, balanced on the furthest mountaintop of the earth. Where I'm allowed to move only in myself the way I want to only move in you. Where I'm allowed to tear open the thoughts I have for you and I receive none of yours.
You notice nothing. You deserve nothing.
The way her face looked just before she pressed her lips. The way the light barely touched her face only because it was bouncing off of everything else, seemingly showcasing her glow. The way her fingers traced nothing but the curves of her own feelings, turning them into the smallest of puppets coiled together by the strings; Only proving the justification of her mindset. The way her mouth turned fragile at the very moment her mind felt it, too, perfectly aligning themselves, thus becoming an emotional motion. The way her lightheadedness concluded the carelessness of dying in that moment.
She closed her eyes and everything she has held onto, everything she's held to be hopeful, was out. All the tiny little thoughts and the immense elation seemed to cancel out and bound the confusion.
And it broke me. It broke my heart into a million little pieces.
It never occurred to me how perfectly it made sense until it was thrown down and shattered on the floor.
I've brought this on us more than anyone could ignore what I've done, what I've done, what I've done.
Cold in literal and cold in demeanor. Like the depths of your mind and the halves of your sentences.
Unknowingly, you're ruined.
I'm wondering how we've come to comprehend what we know when all it consists of is rumored humanity and aching intelligence. We shout and we cry and we abide and we convert and we love and we hate and we wish for the things we've only been taught to wish for.
Hand-me-down desires and second-hand consequences.
And all we can do is aim for higher things, trusting that our bonds with real life aren't good enough and will never accomodate to our approximate conspiracies and our "almost" answers.
All you've known isn't real and all you'll hear are lies. It's easy for you to see the lacking fervor of life now that it's not what you'd expected, wanting only nothing but to leave.
But to which place will you go? To the moon? To the stars? To the core of the earth so that you can say you've been to the middle of it all? So that you can say you've met the standards and are now admitted and accepted to conduct the rumors and the qualifications of how we are to live our lives?
It's faulty encouragement.
It's a never-ending process.
There are no answers.
Justifying the hypocrisy through my own basis of proven point:
Rule number one is to stop looking for answers.
Rule number two is to never try and change humanity.
Rule number three is to always try and change humanity.
All the tunings of our minds never made anything vested and like the curves of our conversations, I separate and I fold. I'm calling a contradicting fixation that I can't relinquish but I'm apprehensive. All the marks, I imagine, are for me. They take me back to the last time we touched. And all the times when word got around. And the time when your words got the best of me: When I was slowing caving in but held my conduction.
Meanwhile, you rang in my head: Gentle was the accordance as we began. A deviant place yet somewhere familiar. Taking time and attaining patient faces. Something turned and the division broke us; You weren't you and I was fully me. Come back, I'll give you nothing less. It was the placement that addled you. Say it was.
It's you playing inside the context. You're clueless and blinded yet your mind already touches it. My promises are yours.
Come down from there and wait with me. All it takes is otherwise and we're lost. Loosen your grip and stay.
Close your eyes. The stillness will keep us calm should our minds wander.
Breathe in. Breathe out for longer.
This is nothing.
It should be nothing.
Why isn't it nothing?
I was talking to you, our voices sharing familiarity.
I was holding something, something small and pointless. I never looked up.
Your hat cast a shadow over your eyes, the sun illuminating them in flicks as you drove.
I swear we could have fit into another decade, our clothes in bright colors and loud material.
You caught my attention, saying something of importance. I regret my lack of recollection.
My smile was erased and drawn into something oblong.
You grinned and squinted, keeping your peripherals on my silhouette and your stare on the horizon.
Forward, (a few fictitious decades later) you're at one end of the table, your arms are crossed.
That look never changed.
You leaned forward onto the tabletop, one arm down, one hand by your chin. Your thumb tracing your bottom lip, going side to side.
I was hopeful. You almost seemed it.
My silent interrogation.
It's a strange feeling.
It's one of those days when you wake up and the impression that your dreams have left make every moment further a matter of debating on coincidence or fate. It's when that song comes on the radio when it really shouldn't have. It's when the day goes on and you're drunk with questions and overwhelmed with possibilities. It's when that one factor sets everything up for evaluation at the end of the day.
What if my realization makes yours?
How does humanity actually work? We have it all wrong, I'm sure. We've no more room for theories and warnings, advice and experts. It's just those that need adjusting.
I'm keeping steady and I'm easing away. I'm inching closer to my promises that I've yet to carry out.
If there was ever a time I needed you more, it'd be now.
I'm sorry I can't always find the words to say, but everything I've ever known gets swept away.
For my disposition keeps nothing but anguish and the first taste of affirmation.
I was only trying to figure it out. I had eyes of hope and a heart of plea.
You had every right but not one of them were. I woke up and seen you and my mind was curving.
Your shirt on my back, your hand on my knee; My heart in your hands, my unease turned facing. Look me in the face and tell me you can't see it.
In teaching myself what I'd already learned, I have yet to maintain it. There's really nothing to compare and nothing to say. The limb I'm on has been breaking for a while and you're not even close.
I'm only backing down and blaming you because you promised me you knew. You promised me I'd be fine and with my breakdown and my mistakes, you've changed your mind.
It's the chance I'd rather know.
It's like a whole part of me is missing. My heart is hollow and my mind is cluttered. I'm dumbfounded and there's nothing I can do about it because apparently it's the last thing I have to do.
The serenity is gone. The innocence, the imagination, the future and the fantasies; Gone. This time it will never go back to being the same.
Still believing in that same youthful hope, my determination and my aspiration will be the death of me.
I'm not leaving without a fight.
This time, I can't handle it.
I will have this.
I'm pretending I'm invincible, I can fly.
You're pretending your goal isn't to bring me down.
I'm shaking, you're looking.
I'll show you my scars and you'll smile.
I'll mention my pain and you'll laugh.
I'll lock myself up and you'll convince me it's fine.
I'll continue taking note of your expression as you continue smoking away your nerves.
I'll stare at the moonlight shadows and you'll search for your story.
You'll test your distractions and I'll manage my dignity.
I'll remember the frigid air and you'll remember your mistake.
I'll give you hope and you'll thrive to take it.
You'll be kind and I'll be alone.
I'll show you I have nothing and you'll have everything.
I could almost touch her.
She could almost feel me.
So close, but she never opened her eyes. "Just look at me!" The words almost jumped from my tonsils.
I said nothing.
She just stood there.
I paced in circles around her, stopping in front of her with each time I'd pass.
She was still.
I was still.
She never moved. I was begging and pleading inside and it killed me not to take her hands; Her needy hands, lifelessly hanging by her hips.
She smelled of haste, her heart rendering pursuit. I kept wondering how someone so still could emanate such eagerness. I couldn't leave her alone. I had to go but I couldn't. I liked to think she wanted me to stay.
There was something about the way she'd breathe.
There was something about my ample adoration of her yearning no despair.
The sweetness of her cheeks as she barely held her hands to them as if quietly examining them with her fingers as she cried. The remorse on the backs of her eyelids as her eyes darted back and forth behind them. I just needed her to look at me. Everything would disappear if she could see me.
She needed me. My hesitation and delay caused her this.
She needed me.
I could sum everything up.
I could say it isn't fair.
I could lie and I could manage it.
I could do a lot of aimless things in hopes of proving them allusive. Confusion is tangible with one extreme to the other.
I want to turn out the lights. I want to hide away in my closet, deceptively too big to keep me hidden. I want to push you further and further away until it's impossible to take the slightest clue and thrive on it to find you.
I try to find something to keep me here. I find it and I fight to cling to it claiming, "I can't be selfish." Sometimes the debate isn't enough. My one and only admiration, specifically, is all I have to hold on to and though I'm clutching it with every indication of sanely surviving, it's that very reverence that annihilates and proves I'm failing it. How is this even supposed to work? Am I supposed to be selfish? Do I not even think twice? That's impractical.
I contradict everything I ever do.
Where were you when I was practical?
On with your idle intentions and up with your arrested interventions.
I will abide if you want and I'll keep my austerities prolonging. I will reject your suggestions only to deny your concern. But now I need you to neglect everything I say to be undeniable and take it as my atonement.
My proclaiming plea.
How many times do I have to break down and lose control for you to see? Is it you that I should blame or is it myself? It's not a fairy tale, my Knight in shining armor, it's real. Come save me.
I could almost hear the innocence in your voice. I could smell the old familiar smells and hear the old familiar words we'd say. It was almost awkward but I let that go. I wanted you back. The way you used to be before now. Maybe I could turn everything around and press pause; delete everything we know now and press play. Then maybe we'd be fine.
I never liked the feeling I got when we were together facing rational colloquy but it was only the illogical moments that made me feel okay.
Maybe this is how it's supposed to be. I never had you but now that everything is coming up and coming out, I miss you. Maybe I just need to have more admission. Maybe I just need to have more realizations like these. Maybe it's always been me, not you.
There's too much going on for me to not miss you. I guess I just need you in times like these. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Need you?
To be continued.
I can't carry it anymore. It's not fair.
It's all on me. Everything is happening because I arranged it to happen. How can I go back? I wanted to go back and you wouldn't have it. The accountability isn't yours. But you lured me in as if nothing was ever depraved. Confusion, fabrication, assurance... none of that matters.
If I've ever been at a loss for words even in composing these words in this silly little blog, it'd be now.
What am I feeling? Will you tell me. Please.
I'm not who you think I am but it's too late now. You're in. You promised. And I'll watch you run away only to beat yourself up over my "I told you so's" you denied before. Go on and pretend this is nothing
An understanding, an idea, a sense of hope. I feel like I'm broken into a million little pieces, all of them varying from every possible perception to ever exist. I want to give up. Forever. I've tried everything. At times it's perfect and other times I can't even find the right thought to think. No one should settle for a bad occurrence in their lives, accepting it as their destiny. But now, tonight, there's no way out. There was a hint of comprehension for a brief moment, so I thought. That's gone. It's more complicated now. No one can understand it because no one knows. It cynically helps that I take a piece of every incident and carry it firmly with me for the next time around and at the end of it all, I'll have the most abundant figurative collection of hindrances that has ever existed. I'll break a record and I'll be famous. Famous for my desolation and futility. Yeah... then it will all be better.
Just turn away from me. Go away and everything will get easier. But then come back. Stay as usual so I can weaken.
When is it safe to authorize my official abdication? Has it already happened or does something have to happen to portray it?
Realizations and moments of happiness.
The innocence. The ignorance.
It's beginning to make sense. Everything and nothing. It's not confusion, it's you.
Please don't go.
Don't leave me alone to do this on my own. You've almost got it, right where we're supposed to be. I'm doing this so slowly, giving time and being patient.
Just stay for a while, things aren't the same since you've gone. No one knows me. I don't know them. Throw away your obstinacy and come home.
It's always wrong. And it's almost right this time. Just stay a little longer... Long enough for me to keep you for when I need you.
I'm ready now. I'm not settling. It's different now. I can't let go this time. I'm almost losing.
Everything turns motionless.
Everything toughens. Everything reverses. Everything hurts. Everything weakens.
I consider giving in.
Everything is imperative.
A sense of dread consumes my thoughts before I even perceive my aura.
I ache. I hesitate. I stand.
It takes me only a few drowsy moments to regain my strength then the pain begins. I slowly find my way to the bedroom door. With every step comes a yearn to turn around and fall back into bed. Nothing can harm me there. Nobody can harm me there.
I still blame you.
Everything that I've vowed to no longer be existent is reputedly creeping back to me. I've tried forgetting all the things detrimental in my life but it's not working, it never seems to work. Whether these certain things physically return or mentally, it's all the same.
It will never subside.
I've been a bit more optimistic.
I've not been bothered by an ex-friend and their spouse anymore.
Matty is seemingly learning a new word every day.
I finally got a chance to see my best friend after so long.
And the coming week is planned to be very productive.
I think I'm going to be okay :)
It made me realize how amazing you are. It made me remember how I fell for you when we were younger. How we used to contemplate our own theories about love and fate and question why I never thought about marriage. Even then I knew I'd marry you. I knew if I were ever to spend the rest of my days with anyone, it was to be with you. You were the only person to ever make me feel the way you made me feel. And so it still goes. With all the anguish I've been enduring for the past year, you've been my security. You've been my hero. You take me back to when I first fell in love with you. You remind me of everything good. Of everything love is considered to be.
You are, without a doubt, the only person I've honestly ever adored to an extent of madness. I'm in love with your allure, with your scent, with your family, with your honor, with your articulation; I'm in love with your entirety. And I will never be able to definitively construe that.
Remember the day you proposed to me? You were holding me. You kept kissing me. Talking to me about how much you cared for me. Comforting me as I was inconveniently sick, causing me to unintentionally ruin the attempt for your plans to fall through. That... That is what I live for. Our humanity. Our mistakes and our accomplishments. Our intimacy.
You and I.
I know I've not been enough but I've definitely tried to be something. A big part of my life has been about pleasing you and wanting you to see the good in me. You used to be able to see everything in me and now you're so far away that I'm constantly having to rely on myself to find you. Although, you always knew where I was, mentally and physically.
It seems as though now I've somewhat diverted my whole attention away from you because I felt that you betrayed me. In reality, I know you'd never do anything of the sort.
I've never needed you more than I do now; During these small moments when I feel that all my hope is gone and all my sanity could be lost.
All I want is for things to be like they were. Things were always involving you. Involving me making you happy.
Maybe that's been my problem all along. Am I this lost without you?
I think everyone has the same question.
"Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident."
I don't understand what I've done wrong. Aside from every little thought in my mind having it's own way of ruining things, I'm lost. Moving on from these sort of things is something I was never really good at. Maybe I'm just being selfish. Maybe I'm just mad. Either way, it's all my fault. It's always been my fault.
I always wanted to be straightforward about this. Yet, here I am.
But these things take time love. These things take backbone. And they'll tell you what you want to hear 'cause they think it's better, better. But you better know how to point out the liars. You've got to weigh your wars make sure you're not fighting for nothing. Are you fighting for nothing?
It feels like this world has been growing slowly upside down. Maybe I should move to China, and straighten this mess out. Maybe I'll be a poet. Watch all the sky for falling words. And write about my grandma's curtains or the lady who put the Chinese buffet in her purse.
I've got my mouth. It's a weapon. It's a bombshell. It's a cannon. I've got my words. I won't give them mercy. Mercy.
I've got my words. I hope they hurt you. I hope they scar you.
I hope they heal you. I hope they cut you open, make you see you've been warring for all the wrong reasons. Make you see that some things are worth bruising for. Make you see that your name is your honor code. Make you see that your hands you're accounted for. Pick and choose where your sweat and your blood will go. Make you see your life's not to be lived alone.
Run their spit through your hair, you're worth nothing. Nothing
It's always worry. It's pausing and replaying in my mind, that certain time in my life that meant everything to me only because it ruined me. My subjective innocence is gone. At the peak of the new me, everything crumbled.
It's me making everything the way it is now. It's me making the mistakes and making the yesterdays come back to life. Every place I go I take a whole different part of myself from that point in time and throw it in the face of my frame of mind. Taunting it. Seeing how far I can really go with so many parts, so many phases, personalities, changes.
They always say when you think you're alone, you aren't. They say there's always someone else going through a similar stage or predicament. I differ. I refuse to agree with something that's merely just a ray of hope.
Wait it out; I know, I know.
Is this procrastination yet again or am I finally going to be proven wrong?
Everything is lost and so am I. I'm right back where I started all because of one person. A person who in the past would have meant nothing to me.
On another note:
I knew she wouldn't understand. I guess I could have took into consideration that it wasn't quite what she knew how to work with. Now I'm stuck with a so called "solution" that does nothing but make things worse.
However, I give her props. She did what she thought was right. Just not for me.
I know the feeling is mutual.