egypts best kept imports

breathe down my neck some more. i'm not an artist i'm just tired of the gore. how bloody and sacred these hands get and papered. how tired these eyes get and full of this future that holds less than these vats of old wounds and sutures. so fuck distance and space and time and your seasons. fuck all of this justification and reasons. forget how i wish that these keys were my fingers and everything that they knew stayed here and lingers. to learn every thing that makes you s my senior is more tiresome and villain and brought him and bring her. i'm more or less finished due to this sticky icky zinger. she used enough filters to replace my own fingers.

thanks for the wine. depth perception does make sense.



edit: never regret me.

if i can't have you

these pictures made me smile. its been a good week.

new blog below this.

Catch a Fire

transatlanticism
seems like we're still searching. for something to believe in. something to rely on. something to feel. something to inspire. to draw a tear. to catch a fire. too much is too square. to white. to complacent without a trace of what once was. the good fears. and the beautiful tears. the spotless crimes and sinless years. worse than bleeding is blood thats cold that doesn't run. at least not free. at least not warm. how much are we willing to compromise. how much more will we throw away. how much more passing of this time will distract me from knowing what i really need and love. what i miss so damn much. and need even more. even worse than this distraction is my fear this necessity. but i'm scared. i don't want to run out of things to say. out of reasons to love. reasons to cry. reasons to hurt and to fear and to hate and to run. i need you. i need you so much closer. maybe running isnt over when your hard up for another hit. another way another shit another chance to break a bit and wonder where this color comes from comes and cries and beats you up some. hello. i love you. won't you tell me your name. hello i need you like a bullet to my brain. would you tell me it aint free when all thats left is you and me, when we're done bleeding on our own my god remember us by name. would they say we'll never be, living love in times like these. when i finally fall, will you be there to hold my hand. hello i love you. won't you tell me your name. hello. i need you. cuz all thats left in this brave new world, is ticking clocks and dancing girls, and broken hearts to find, another way, to shut it all out, take some time in life to see, feel this warm security, electric hearts will play a song you've heard a thousand times.

excuse me ma'am you dropped something...

my jaw. thats all, not alot just enough to make a real boy cry and a grown man wonder where is heart went when its time to stand baby will you tell me that you need me that you need this more than just another day away from what you never want to make believe is happening so close to home that gets so much harder running away from you is easy but its harder when i'm older and alone and all i have to keep me warm and safe is this beer and maybe a bad hip but aside from that i'll be just one day short of kicking it all the time and always feeling like its time to break it off tear it down run a muck and make a sound clap your hands clap your hands like its highschool and know theres nothing better to be doing on this lunch break rather than staring at that fat guy and impressing all your friends by being a big dick and doing anything to make the fags around you like you even if it means tearing down another person just like you the same as you the same heart the same mind the same brain the same hands and crushing them and drawing tears from his eyes but thats alright cuz they don't mind they just want some more to laugh at and they'll be fine but soon you'll learn that they'll all die and before that day comes they'll all lose their hair and have glasses and hate their wives and wish they were more like someone you once hated yourself or being so content with what they had around them that it made you more jealous than angry and more tired and confused to find some body so hated and persecuted smile and know where they belong and what they need to get along and get by you'll find out you'll find out before its over what it means to be so broken ithat tomorow just makes you want to hide further in your own eyes and your hands dont work half as well as they should when its so hard and so wrong to be unhappy but so far away from smling and so broken that it makes you wonder what it was you came here for, oh and also makes this run on sentence seem so trivial in comparison to how much it hurts to forget what its like to cry.