July 23, 2010
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Cold inaffectionate room
walls that rape your thoughts and pry into a disarray of personal affects and objects and stories and lies and yearnings of a nostalgic era
2004 was a great year for me
music genre i loved was in its prime
the sun shined so bright on everything and the green papers meant nothing
living without dependence on poison and having fun meant staying sober
we always had fun and never gave into dirty hands or lined up on the planks
night streetlights and failed romances curling up next to you in an air conditoned room
writing about your day reading other friends interest laced fragmented thoughts and sentences
meeting people in the invisible room with no walls just invisible wires and codes
their thoughts, stories, and romantic hangups: the ability to relate to them and learning about girls
and all the lacerations they can make on a developing ego
growing up and everything was a huge world teeming on the very thought of excitement
breaking up/ making up
the grand kings and queens who met at young ages and set the standard so high for those to follow
flirting with concepts, no longer girls, who knew not what they wanted and didnt care
silly spring flings that you thought were the end of the world
innocence and lack of heartbreak yield a great summer on its brink
and a crappy one at its end…
lets hang from trees and not think of anything else but making it a priority to soak up the fun
aand the stars at night are always just mysterius lights with unexplainable beginnings and ends
fuck balls of fire and gas….
these stars of ours are lights for the children at night
and when you held her hand you swore you would poke a hole in the skyy and make her a star
and she was your reason
back when nothing really mattered yet everything mattered
having fun was doing stupid shit with your friends
growing apart
felt like tight rope walks.
Why do i feel like theres nothing there anymore
this ferris wheeel ride feels so unpoulated and rusty
falling into the lake it protruded over
at the bottom its dark and cold
when do i jump out>?
somehow attics seem magical to me :a room full of memories yet its at the top
forgotten and warm
and the view from here is
a) amazing
b)inspiring
c)happy
all of these
lumps of clothes causing portruding shapes on empty beds
shoes off socks on
tiptoe
sneak out and prey on life make it yours
this summer has not ended
alcohol is soo lame
do something fun
something youll remember and feel good about tommorow
drinking to forget was a broken handle bar
aand the telephone lines were creating conversations miles away
the children were at play
our lives were all disarray or so we thought and wrote about
the screen seemed not to relieve but comfort. when did we stop writing what we wanted and
instead type statuses that would yeild 40 likes and many more comments
did we ever write for ourselves
i like to think that we did.
Life is unrelenting unforgiving yet spontaeous and exhilarating … depressing and affirming… dark and bright full of friends and empty rooms
i felt as if i were in a white hallway and as i passed all these doors were open and inside i saw people
some that i knew and some that i didnt
they were all having natural fun: the kind that mimicks a cocaine binge
i saw many interesting things and when i came to my room i took off my jacket and jumped in…
now i try to go back there and all i see are rooms with individuals, cold hard statues, staring at mirrors and they are surrounded by statues
the walls are collapsing and the windows are rusty and the world outside the windows is grey and empty
and as i came to my room the door was rusted shut.
“room let me in… pleaase”
there was a knock and it opened i sat down and saw..
