Monday, June 6, 2011

SILLY::THINGS::LIKE::LOVE::

"YOU DO SOME REAL SILLY THINGS" I USED TO GET THAT ALOT FROM PPL. I USUALLY HAD THIS ITCH TO BE OUT WHERE EVERYTHING WAS FREE. I WOULD TAKE MY GUITAR OUT TO THE END OF THE ROAD, SIT ON THIS HUGE ROCK BY THE WATER. THAT ROCK WAS THE EDGE OF MY ADOLESCENT WORLD. AND I COULD SEE THE MAINLAND FROM IT. YOU WERE OVER THERE, ACROSS THOSE SEAS, AND I WOULD SEND MY SOUNDS TO YOU. BUT I DON'T KNOW IF YOU EVER GOT THEM.

IT WAS ME AND THE FALL BREEZE AND SOMETHING LATENT IN THE MOMENT. IT WAS SO QUIET BUT EVERYTHING AROUND ME WAS HUMMING. AND IF PEACE HAD A FLAVOR, IT TASTED LIKE THIS.

THERE WAS ALWAYS SOME WORD THAT NEEDED ME TO SAY IT, KEPT POKING AROUND THE CORNERS OF MY LIPS TO SEE IF IT WAS OK TO COME OUT AND TELL THE WORLD MY SECRET THOUGHTS. I HAD DREAMS ABOUT YOU, EVEN THEN. BUT I COULDN'T BE TOO HONEST.

THESE DAYS SWALLOWED MY DISAPPOINTMENT. I HAD THOUGHTS OF WHERE I WANTED TO BE, AND WHAT I COULD DO, WHO I HAD LOVED, AND WHO I WAS LOVING. I'D HEAR THAT SAME SOUND IN THE SUN SETTING, ECHOING LAUGHTER OF CHILDREN IN THE DISTANCE, OR A BUTTERFLY GRACING MY PATH. THE WATER WOULD WHISPER IT BACK TO ME.

IT WAS ALL GOD TO ME, SPEAKING IN HIS LOUDEST TONE. THE ONE THAT BYPASSES SOUND WAVES AND EARDRUMS, AND REVERBERATES AGAINST YOUR HEART. MINE IN PARTICULAR, CAUSE THE WALLS ARE TOO THICK TO ALLOW FOR MOVEMENT. CAUSE NOT FLINCHING SHOWS EVERYONE YOU'RE TOUGH.

THE MERE THOUGHT OF BEING VULNERABLE WAS DEATH. SO I WOULD LASSO THE TEAR THAT SOUGHT ESCAPE FROM MY CORRALS.I'D PRETEND I WASN'T THINKING ABOUT US, AND WHEN I FELT I HAD SUFFICIENTLY FOOLED MYSELF, IT WAS COOL.

I WAS TRAPPED INSIDE THE MEMORY OF A MOMENT THAT NEVER HAPPENED. THE IRONY IS THAT MEMORIES NEED MOMENTS, AND NOT VICE-VERSA. BUT I BECAME THE FIRST HUMAN TO MANAGE THE OPPOSITE. I VACILLATED BETWEEN REALITY AND FICTIONAL FAILURE, BOTH MADE ME SAD. TO THINK/LIVE IN THE PRESENT AND IMAGINE THE FUTURE SIMULTANEOUSLY WAS TOO MUCH FOR MY MIND.

TO THINK THAT I DRUG MYSELF INTO THIS. WITH ..4-LETTER WORDS SPRINKLED WITH NAIVETY.
COCAINE IS A 4-LETTER WORD, FOR VICTIMS. A STEALTH KILLER, A YOU DON'T REALIZE YOU'RE DYING TILL YOU'RE DEAD. 2 SUMMERS AGO I WAS SNORTIN ON THE BEACHES MONTEREY, NOW I ESCAPE TO THE ATTIC ON KELTON AVE. BECAUSE IT'S ALL I CAN THINK TO DO. GRASPIN AT AIR....

I GUESS I JUST FEAR THAT I'LL BE GHOSTED. I WANT TO SOMEHOW FREEZE FRAME US. NO ROOM TO ACT NO ACTIONS TO JUDGE, NO MEMORIES TO HAVE.
MEMORIES ARE ALL ABOUT FAITH.IT'S SOMETHING YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE IN. (DON'T GET ME WRONG, I WANT YOU TO BELIEVE IN ME.) MEMORIES ARE ONLY STORIES TO THE PPL THAT HAVEN'T EXPERIENCED THE MOMENT.

A MEMORY IS REMOVAL. I DON'T WANT TO BE REMOVED, WHICH IS WHY I NEVER TRIED, WHICH IS WHY THERE IS NO YOU & I. WE COULD BE ETERNAL YOU AND I...to be continued

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