22 March 2009


she speaks quickly. seeming to deliberately avoid pronunciation of each syllable, inable to sound-out-words. verbally.
everything is in her mind. the best way out is on paper. or, keyboard.
she's a mess. and a disaster.
life was a straight path for a moment. no bumps, cracks...
now it seems she's approached a huge, menacing STOP SIGN.
after the sign, there's a gap in the road. gaping wide open and disturbingly inviting.
inches her
to the fall.
who is she? where is she going? when will this end?

there's a justification to every fuck-up, every mistake.
i know what i'm doing, i just don't know how to stop.

05 March 2009


i am justified in everything i say, do, and feel.
even when i am wrong.

this is because i am me, and i don't care about you. you, you, and especially you, or what you think.

the artist gone wrong, the rambler, the pessimist, the heart breaker.

i love to use, but not to be used.
i love to chase, but if you chase me i'll run away, and you'll never catch me.

so what if i lie? so what if i drink and smoke and stuff?
so what if i say things i don't mean, and even more, so what if i say fucked up shit that i do mean?

who cares?

i love to watch movies over and over and over. and i leave good songs on repeat. yes, and i do it, just to annoy the living hell out of everyone.
if you don't like it, take a hike.

or eat my clamburger.

either way, i win.