puzzles

if only women were as easy to figure out as the puzzles in the news paper.

week 8: moon

i think i always loved you the most... in the moonlight.

theres a story that goes along with this one but i dont really feel like im in a place to get into it.

lets just say that it was at those times, i really truly knew that i was in love.

yet another pop song/poem

So get back, back, back to where we lasted.
Just like I imagine.
I could never feel this way.
So get back, back, back to the disaster.
My heart's beating faster.
Holding on to feel the same.


sugarcult - memory

This may never start.
We could fall apart.
And I'd be your memory.
Lost your sense of fear.
Feelings insincere.
Can I be your memory?

So get back, back, back to where we lasted.
Just like I imagine.
I could never feel this way.
So get back, back, back to the disaster.
My heart's beating faster.
Holding on to feel the same.

This may never start.
I'll tear us apart.
Can I be your enemy?
Losing half a year.
Waiting for you here
I'd be your anything.

So get back, back, back to where we lasted.
Just like I imagine.
I could never feel this way.
So get back, back, back to the disaster.
My heart's beating faster.
Holding on to feel the same.

This may never start.
Tearing out my heart.
I'd be your memory.
Lost your sense of fear.
(I'd be your memory)
Feelings disappear.
Can I be your memory?

So get back, back, back to where we lasted.
Just like I imagine.
I could never feel this way.
So get back, back, back to the disaster.
My heart's beating faster.
Holding on to feel the same.

This may never start.
We could fall apart
And I'd be your memory.
Lost your sense of fear.
Feelings insincere.
Can I be your memory?
Can I be your memory?

another poem

inspired by prozacville and a song i wrote a long time ago.

youll label me,
a misanthrope,
youll label me depressed.

with nineteen years,
of damage done,
youll fix with pills i guess.

week 7: poem

ive been crying off and on while doing this one, im not sure exactly for sure why though i have my suspicions.

anyway there are certain songs that i wish i had written, songs that i hear and can relate to a moment, and often its to distance myself from that moment. other peoples poetry, other peoples words.

and still my very personal experience.

there was this one night where im standing on her porch and shes effing beautiful. and she leans in, were both nervous and uncertain as to where this may or may not be going.

and her lips touched mine and i felt so alive.

sometimes i wonder if every moment since has been spent trying to kill myself.

dashboard confessional
hands down
(she actually made a point of introducing this song to me, ironic huh?)

Breathe in for luck,
breathe in so deep,
this air is blessed,
you share with me.
This night is wild,
so calm and dull,
these hearts they race,
from self control.
Your legs are smooth,
as they graze mine,
we're doing fine,
we're doing nothing at all.

My hopes are so high,
that your kiss might kill me.
So won't you kill me,
so I die happy.
My heart is yours to fill or burst,
to break or bury,
or wear as jewelery,
which ever you prefer.

The words are hushed lets not get busted;
just lay entwined here, undiscovered.
Safe in here from all the stupid questions.
"hey did you get some?"
Man, that is so dumb.
Stay quiet, stay near, stay close they can't hear...
so we can get some.

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.
So won't you kill me, so I die happy.
My heart is yours to fill or burst,
to break or bury, or wear as jewelery,
which ever you prefer.

Hands down this is the best day I can ever remember,
I'll always remember the sound of the stereo,
the dim of the soft lights,
the scent of your hair that you twirled in your fingers
and the time on the clock when we realized it's so late
and this walk that we shared together.
The streets were wet
and the gate was locked so I jumped it,
and I let you in.
And you stood at your door with your hands on my waist
and you kissed me like you meant it.
And I knew that you meant it,
that you meant it,
that you meant it,
and I knew,
that you meant it,
that you meant it.

new blog alert

that ive started a new blog called coffee wage-slave

i just thought you all might enjoy...

heaven

heaven is a nice comfy pair of boots that have lasted seven years and still feel like home, even when home doesnt feel like it anymore.

week 6: discovery ( work safe for no good reason at all)

another in the life as a coffee wage slave, single panel as i think that is all that is needed in this case.

i really dont think that she was happy with this discovery, what can i say, we had had a run on scones, and by nine we were out.

i just got real quiet and shrugged and offered her a muffin on the house.

and suddenly she was my friend.

sometimes i really hate people.

week 6: discovery (original and not so work safe)

another in the life as a coffee wage slave, single panel as i think that is all that is needed in this case.

i really dont think that she was happy with this discovery, what can i say, we had had a run on scones, and by nine we were out.

i just got real quiet and shrugged and offered her a muffin on the house.

and suddenly she was my friend.

sometimes i really hate people.

another coffee wage slave moment

this one started about a week or so into working there, women come in and pay for their orders and hand me money or cards with bits of paper or post its attached.

and on these bits of paper are phone numbers and then from the customer... a wink.

and there is no easy out on this one, you cant really pretend you didnt notice, and there is no way in hell youre going to follow up.

so i smile lamely and say, thank you, your drink will be up in a few minutes


the discovery is that older women seem to have the sex drives of a thirteen year old boy.

the perfect cosmo match

topic 61: grunge

as a child of the eighties and nineties, i found this topic almost irresistible.

its been a while since ive posted here at any rate.

geeky, take two

yep...

this actually happened, no exaggeration.

sometimes i think that im too retarded to live.

monday artday: hell

....

and this doesn't include the people that i went to high school with another added bonus to working at/for a utility.

ifn: the dead

given the amount of personal tragedy ive had on couches youd think that id have learned to avoid them by now.

i was reminded of something i wrote a long time ago.

okay here it is...

i said,

"its not like im dying."

but i am.

and i realize that its the first time ive lied to her.

week 5: geeky

i have a comic for this one in the works, in the meantime i offer this.

no matter how i dress or how well i seem to fit in i always feel like the geek.

but really, im okay with that, i wouldnt have it any other way

and in regards to identifying a moment through other peoples words.

My city's still breathing (but barely it's true)
through buildings gone missing like teeth.
The sidewalks are watching me think about you,
sparkled with broken glass.
I'm back with scars to show.
Back with the streets I know
Will never take me anywhere but here.
The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand,
the strangers whose faces I know.
We meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say " I wanted it this way"
Wait for the year to drown.
Spring forward, fall back down.
I'm trying not to wonder where you are.
All this time lingers, undefined.
Someone choose who's left and who's leaving.
Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me:
a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest,
the best parts of Lonely, duct-tape and soldered wires,
new words for old desires,
and every birthday card I threw away.
I wait in 4/4 time.
Count yellow highway lines that you're relying on to lead you home.

anyway

ifn: holes and other superficialities

i drew this last night without even realizing it. i was watching memento on the couch in the living room and i looked down and there it was.

next to it i had written:

i am
a useless shell
a ghost
a shadow
a memory of who i was

a small collection of pieces that i havent given away.