all you need is tr(l)ust and a little but of pixie dust.

this is to the loves who love in dreams, and wake up dying to go back.
this is to hearts connected to heads.
this is to blood steams that only keep us alive.
this is to forever seventeen.
this is to alway coming in second.
its hard to remember when all of this was perfect (in my head at least)
im sick of the tabloids and all i ever wanted was a heart to hold
if i had a treasure chest im sure no one would bother looking through the collaterol to find the smallest piece of gold
forever is a scary thing
so, why do we spend our whole lives searching for it?
in every crack, in every corner (in every pill, in every dollar)
"ive never told a lie, and that makes me a liar. ive never made a bet, but we gamble with desire."
theres a funny thing about rewind, if you do it too much itll bunch up on you and eventually break
all the times i wished i had said no. changed.
sometimes sorry isnt enough, but i never really ever asked that much from you.
$20 hotel rooms and i can feel you breathing
sunrises behind the eyelids
i get bright ideas in dark rooms
mr sandman must be on break because i havent seen sleep in a while

numb.

second star to the right.

You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you, Peter Pan. That's where I'll be waiting.

So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!

updates.

my life is just kind of like a balancing act.

been raising hell, but now that it's grown up and moved out, i don't know what to do with myself.

not sure how much time i've wasted. one day i just stopped keeping track.

m

im sensing some antidote in the way the world has been speaking to me. but im all heart with these fingers stuck in my ears-playing scenes from my childhood so loud that i cant hear whats happened to me. you cant fly these wings, you cant sleep in this box with me. somewhere theres a backroom for us to be swapping spit in. a ditch for me to be forgotten again. "there are plenty of fish in the sea" quip pretty fisherman on boats in stocked lakes and fish farms. do you think about me when you see the moon in the afternoon? "shape up or ship out". im nailed and boarded up in a box addressed to somewhere else. of all gods jokes, i am the most cruel- i will make you forget your head and your rules and your friends and your faith. can we go back to how it was? before there was a world out the front door that got off on being down. stockpiled good fortune and i am ready to wait out the storm. i want you in my after 12am veins. lately it all just feels like looking up through ice in a frozen pond at red cheeked families skating, carefree. to be honest, even though im nodding off in airport lounges-i'd rather lay my head on a curb somewhere with you than any of the rest of it. and the universe doesnt care about luck or headlines. someone whispered "make yourself" in my ear once. steal me away from all of this. make yourself.

how ive been feeling is sunsets everywhere.
everything i write is just history from my perspective-a bit off of how it really went.
giving up from the heels of my shoes all the way to the beating in my chest.
"are you in or out?"
talk some sense into me
im reeling from the altitude and from not being able to get through.
the truth is strange and chaotic. nothing hurts quite like it.
but i am addicted to it.
"ive got a big big mess on my hands " (youll know what im talking about soon).
happy people find happiness in the gutter.
if you are unhappy it doesnt matter how many zeros are added to your bank account. you will find unhappiness.
i find that its alot easier to find faith than to lose it.
though there is always a singer, preacher or doctor who acts like they are the lost and found bin for faith.
when i think about you i want to be subtracted down to a particle that runs through your veins.
i want to run through your body.
sprint.
i want to make you dizzy.
i want to give you headaches.
i want to be a part of what you need to get by.
were just like a movie based on a book-almost. but not quite as good.
i feel shut out in the cold.
in my head only.
its dark and my eyes have not adjusted yet.
brand new girl, brand new year.
i want someone or something to believe in.

caged all the free spirits.

lets make them shiny so we see them glisten on the ocean bottom.

we'll take your flaws and polish them as good as new-that is except for jealousy, theres been a recall on that one.

turned the corners of my eyes out as though they were my pockets, as i pass by men sleeping in boxes looking for loose change.

fix me or forget me. at this point im going for whichever is easier.

im guessing i look like i just got off a bender cause everyone keeps saying "you really should get some rest".

like that was the problem.

it feels like a surgeon who cant cut himself open to save his own life.

going AWOL from ghost towns.

look into mirrors-"wipe that smile off your fucking face."

and whatever happens in between just make sure our plots are matching and next to eachother.

its kind of tough being a people pleaser when you arent too fond of people in general.

its hard to imagine a time when any of this made sense.

after awhile when you bounce back and forth between different hearts nothing gets old. you never really have to mean anything to anyone. i have intimacy problems with the world.

her eyes are blackened around the edges so much that she looks like a racoon. they look like permenant black eyes- the consumate victim. everybody loves the victim. he can’t put his finger on what it reminds him of but the closest he can come are old zombie movies. she’s made-up to look half dead- which still beats most of them who are just half-alive anyway. her hair looked like rows of shark teeth dyed over dye jobs like she was running away from her natural color. no one wants to be what they are. she looks independent in a very vulnerable way. the safest kind of dangerous. they drove around the city so she could alternate between cigarettes and coffee. they talked about the kids they hated just so they have something to agree about. they used to be just like us. they're sitting on the edge of her bed. every single inch on his body is filled with millions of nerves. somewhere inside his brain neurons have fired to synapses and put them on alert. when his hands brush hers it feels electric. every movement has a meaning, either yes or no. its getting later and later. the conversation and the possibilities are running out. last call. this is a war. every time she moves her hand to her hair she is sending him signals. stay or leave. why can’t he figure them out. don’t strike first. wait until he is tired enough to make a move. lean in to kiss her bringing an awkward break in conversation. as he pulls back she keeps talking about writers and bands she thinks will make her look cooler. but he's fooled if only because he is worried she has found him out. her sheets smell like stale cigarettes smoked by boys who were him on nights before. imagine the chemistry of swallowed DNA. she has a scar that runs down her back right along the spine, like somebody tried to steal it. he joked her like this: “someone must have ignored the blue prints, look at all the structural damage”. but he stuttered and trailed off. the smoke curled off of her lips. for a second he was dying to be it. dying to be as clever and kissable as her. there she was sitting in front of him, knee pulled up to to her chin. smoking a cigarrette thinking of something or someone else. and thats how she will be stuck in his mind forever. two explorers in the dark, mapless and hopeless. alone together. its funny how easy it is to sleep with someone, but how hard it is to sleep next to someone. it’s too intimate. it makes his heartbeat race and pound inside his head. it is deafening. he slides his arm from behind her head and slip out the door. the pavement on the sidewalk is watching him go over every moment in my head. it’s watching him remember her. mistake by mistake. frame by frame. we’re not just taking trips down memory lane, we are broken down on it.

my friend told me, there are veins in brooklyn sick of the constant knocking on them like a door.
if i look up the lights in houses look like stars in the sky, only if i squint hard enough.
if you had told me where i'd be three years ago i would have laughed it off.
i am sure i will do the same in three years when i am making wishes from some gutter somewhere.
i want to be the last thing you think of at nighttime.
i tapped out, i blacked out.
you knew we couldn't last.
it's funny how we only focus on our flaws.
"please tell me the truth, i am addicted to it".
i got new boots so i'd never get cold feet-on thin ice or at the altar.
"when you are very old and very lonely you will understand".
it's designed deep inside of us to be the opposite of what we are
i thank god for the bands, movies, and hearts that make me want to become something better than i am.
your heart beat gets me through the day.

"i'll take the machete, they never run out of bullets..."

the cats got the canary spinning in its ribcage
did i mention i came dressed for the intervention
(and if you were dying soon would you try to find snow in the deep summer, the june bugs dancing in wonderand, i still wonder now if my words will stil turn you inside out)
he's a honey jar with that pretty face, lets never lose the lid
and keep those rosey lips in
(he breathes wet through insect eyes)in multiples of four, no less than sixteen
mr. sandman's been showing his beam when he walks into a room the walls lean in to listen
keep a calendar this way you'll know the last time you came through
oh."i know what youre going through"
well i dont- its more of a "paper or plastic" grocery store choice to me
but i'll sympathize with anything to get through to you
do you know what its like to watch reruns of yourself night after night
to offer nothing and expect everything in return
to cock your head just right to appear arrogantly humble
if we hurry we'll make the morning edition
cause everybody likes to read the bad news
they've tapped the phone, be very careful what you say
speak in code about singing birds and sleepy eyed women
autographs only taught me how to conterfeit signatures on my prescriptions
his head's a junkyard for rusted midnight thought
she's criminally carefree when the pills swallow the worry
he's digging like forty nine, he's making you press rewind
he's a thunderstorm so bright you shut your eyes
he is a hurricane

hypothermia in hell

Dear Whoever, Here's another letter that I'll never send. If you get this ever, I'll be at my most bitter end. The last time we spoke he spit only warm blades and open bombs. Now this ink is running through my veins, so shut the fuck up and try to understand these words no breath could ever hope to carry. He's my last big mistake. He is the new machine. And falling into the new machine seems to be my only way out. To my defeater: don't even bother to read this. I will fail you every single time. The sound of his voice sharpens my flaws into daggers. So let's toast this to my utter loss. The thought of forever disgusts me. Blankets of snow fall deep into failure. The sun is getting dull and I wake up cold and alone. So just give me an ending. Give me one more reason. My concern will not be confused with pity, because pity swiftly turns tolerance into acceptance. And we don't want that to happen.

no one ever fell in love with anyone because of empty pockets or red splotched eyes. drove around for hours tonight just to keep myself from feeling anchored. weighed down. to keep my mind off thinking about what kids like me deserve. desperation isnt a strong enough word (but it will have to do). nothing gets you ready to have every single word dissected and put under a microscope. i got ringing in my ears but none on my fingers. i got sunsets in the veins on my wrists. we’re not just falling in love anymore, we’re demanding it. im the latest bloomer. i can still see you standing on my front porch- slowed my own thoughts down to a single blade of grass. you couldnt catch my eye cause i was too busy rolling them. the buttons on one side of your coat that wouldnt snap on the other side. they were just for fashion not for function you told me. you were pretty for a boy. it made me laugh when i thought of it, im sorry i wasnt laughing at what you were saying. it makes me laugh still- when im walking around for hours at night. i'd love to swerve off and blame it on the fog, but i've been talking on these roads too much lately. they'd spill all my secrets. this city won’t let me go. my lips cracked and dried from the tears, i'll probably die a cliche. provocative. no one will ever sound as cool as you. we built cool. we made up style. we set the standard and they're all just trying to live up to it. if theres nobody who thinks like us anymore. untouchable is unlovable. you always have me humming in my head just out of key. i bought an alarm clock just so i could hit the snooze button. whats the point in getting out of bed anymore if you only get out to say you did. if you could love the biggest fraud or the best liar- then im your princess. i was made just for fashion not for function.

“the heart is deceitful above all other things"

their eyes are like pills. its funny. the blue ones take to you down. the brown ones pick you up. it doesn't even make a whole lot of sense looking back on it now. there are a couple of sets of eyes that are like bookmarks in life. they are there to mark the chapters. highlights so you pay attention to the changes. dogeared pages. the way he looked at me the first time- all the blood ran out of me. with the biggest eyes. that trusted and believed and dreamed and hoped and lived. so i blinked. i faked like i couldnt tell. i was always so goddamned scared to see my own flaws reflected on them. and i cant count the times i crushed them. and you realize that they will never look up at you the same.

i cant blame you for giving up on me.
join the club.

im guessing you are regretting this monster you created. he gave me a prescription and said "these will take take care of your shyness". no one really gets that part though. and who ever wanted you to come out of your shell anyhow. maybe im just pretty sure that i am a total bore. and there's nothing tragic at all, this is (i'm) completely ordinary. and that's whats so tragic. it's so fucking mundane. so while we're all wasting our eyesight on these screens late into the night dying to find some connection to someone- our backs breaking from being hunched over the keyboard- im sending mail addressed to myself just so i get some. im looking in the mirror and dissecting myself, just a smile connected to a pulse, barely connected at that. this wont make any sense when i read it in the morning.

the keyboard is unforgiving. it doesn't have much give. it hates the life inside your fingertips, it is jealous. if youre not careful youre gonna write yourself into a corner... her mom had a heart that served as a trophy case for award winning methheads. i couldnt blame her for how she turned out but id love to shoot the scientist that figured out the connection between geneology and behavioral patterns.. shes a prizefighter past her prime who just wont get out of the ring because its the only thing shes ever known. because you know how the odds stack up. because you know that its just a matter of being faster and hitting harder. you are a wordsmith- imagine the bedside manner of this spin doctor. "sometimes if things are going right you just need to lower your standards". its last call for a shot of conscience...

you remind me of the way things went before all of this.

i've already given up on myself twice; third time is the charm

heroes are there to be loved, but not to love you back. i'm not saying that heroes are a bad idea, even if they do disappoint you in the end. maybe that's what they're there for in the first place. as your heroes fall away and you're left standing, you realize the only person you have to live up to is yourself.

trade baby blues for wide-eyed browns

its strange the things that inform your writing versus the things that do not. its almost as though your words are shaped more by the things you do not say than the things that you do. there are many thoughts that i am scared to write down for many reasons. "the cancer of time is eating us away. our heroes have killed themselves, or are killing themselves. the hero then, is not time, but timelessness...." henry miller. i rock myself back and forth, this is not happening. people walk by. only eyes and smiles. "yeah im doing good". liar. it is a terrible fate to be given up on and only more terrible to give up on someone. the world is going by too fast out the window. it is impossible to even discern if there is a world out there because it is so dark and so fast. but i can only assume that the world did not disappear on me, though i couldnt blame it if it had. my head fades into the violet seat. i push my head to dream of other times but i cant fall asleep. it is pitch black outside but dawn in my insides. woke up again today. i believe i must have a disorder of some kind- or else why would i care about things so but act so carelessly. nevermind anything.

so much different than the way the others gave a windows down summer sun/nostalgia vibe- i guess maybe thats only my own head but this one feels moonlit. the way things are different as they pass in the dark. the way we can be ourselves after dark. love, the stagecoach always turns back into a pumpkin. sometimes love is about getting even. but sometimes it is about how you are the sun and nothing can shine quite as bright as you. nothing is the same at 6 am. somehow the things we say mean more in corners of dancefloors and we focus on love below the waist and outside of the head. "dont you want to get better"- i just dont want you to worry. "dont you want to get better" - tonight i do. the way they say "youre committing slow suicide" when someone lights up or cuts loose. but arent we all. everything we do just shortens our life, every breath is one less. but its what makes everything so treasured. in my head. it aint a funeral babe, i just want the headline to die. recovery is the new drug. in your average week my head lays on so many different pillows. this windowshopped life has me dreaming of a reset button. daylight is your enemy. im in love with lovers who dont love me except under the pale light of the moon. im sleeping in my driveway tonight dreaming of sleeping in snow or gravel or whatever is next to you.... thank god, disappointment has a short shelf life. i want to buy (uni)som(e) sleep but over the counter doesnt cut it whether it be hearts or capsules. wreck it all, one heart at a time. sleepovers are as good at they were 10 years ago. my dog is proof of puppy love. hollywood is a good story. but best friends are better.

sing into a polygraph. its not all its cracked up to be. talking isnt good for anything ever. lets practice our moves until the sun comes up.

so i've said a couple of new years resolutions

But none of them are true.
In the next year I just want to go back to outerspace.
And move back home.

i can give/take all of your problems back/away.

i saw this movie "the science of sleep" tonight.
it made my head swirl.
love and dreams.
i recommend watching it if you get a chance.
the days are starting to end early here now.
photos approved for (mis)use.
songs are just artifacts from a time when i still cared.
now there are country codes to decipher.
returning can take you to pieces.
but home is an idea, not a place.
i always tried to cross the river in oregon trail and it was always a bit too deep for my wagon.
i want a guy that doesnt have time to think things through.
last night i counted numbers until my eyes were stitched shut with sleep.
whats the point of walking the plank on a sinking ship?