im not one interested in fiction
and im not one to depend on faith
im not one to dwell on my so-called ‘sin
i despise vulnerability just to keep safe.
i still wont pray or beg for acceptance for all the things ive done
ill try and keep rational, continue to manipulate, continue to run
but just this one time, give me some false hope.
youve stolen all energy to run
youve taken all my energy away
i dont know what it is that you have done
because no one gets me wanting to stay
but i took something of yours and youve taken something of mine
it was a trying, expected, emotional, and exceptional time
we walked, we painted, we laughed and we joked
and if kissing you cost money, i swear id go broke.
i had no idea in the beginning this was going to happen
if i did i wouldve done what i do best and flee
if i could go back, honestly i dont know what id do
but i dont regret any part of you and me.
so for now, do me a favor
do what you need, put on that slow show
i hear what you say, but i need a little more
tell me there is something we can do
just give me some false hope.
there’s a feeling i get.
sometimes i dont know where it comes from or why its there.
sometimes it happens at the worst of times.
sometimes it occurs after such small pleasures.
it’s like switching lanes without hitting any center divider bumps.
it’s like downshifting up a hill so i can go faster.
and i’m still on the 58.
god it’s a neverending road.
and i’m trying to tap on the pedal the beat with my toe.
and i imagine these windmills as giant fans trying to keep me away.
dont worry windmills im not gonna stay.
i’m just passing through,
going to a place with hardly any greens or blues.
to even further out in the middle of nowhere than i am now.
theres an eyeball in my socket; get it out.
maybe its just knowing there is something to look forward to
"Lainie, if you could go anywhere on a roadtrip with a person, dead or alive, who and where would it be?"
"I’d take the dead cat down the street; he’d be good company. And we’d probably go to the country of Hungary, because Kitty and I both like the colors green and dark grey."
if I try and think about how to respond, it comes out bad.
So I say what I say, and I say away and away.
It never comes out the way I mean it to.
It comes out in ways you want it to.
But I dont mean it to mean the way you want it to.
I mean it to say it the way I want it to.
But without making you feel like a complete piece of shit.
Don’t make me feel so down,
I dont mind slowing of the car while driving over the track the railroad will follow.
It just gets to me when I have to shift my gears from upward to downward.
Thats what pisses me off.
And don’t make me feel dumb.
But the blinker makes me crazy.
Like the machine that holds your eye open during surgery.
As you watch the needle inch its way into your cornea.
It laughs and smiles and asks if he can feel ya.
You say no, but that son of a bitch needle does it anyway.
I’ll tell that needle what it needs to hear,
not what he wants to hear.
I’ll tell him to move on, forget it, stop fucking talking about it, i really dont care.
Then you can tell me how fucked up my head is for getting ansy while petting big dogs.
Your hair is black like the soles of my feet.
I like not wearing my shoes so I feel more discreet.
Your shirt, it keeps me warm,
because the thoughts of you send shivers, and the chills they swarm.
And then my skin,
And then my skin feels uptight and taught.
And then I sit real still
Until I feel like I’m lifting from my seat and into space with you;
but I’m not.
I wish I was, but I’m not.
Your tone is like that of something striped.
I do like the sound, yet it’s not quite ripe.
Your heteroclitic mind keeps me sure,
sure enough that I’d invite you into my bed;
but I knew you’d choose the floor.
And then my bones,
And then my bones would hug and reject
that hard brown wood floor
until I couldn’t take it anymore
And my ribs would rub off on you like a bad side effect.
I wish they could, I wish I wish they could.
But with all due respect.
His lover is stuck in Hell for God knows what,
And this guy is right below me.
This world was born into a generation full of those.
Those who look for instant satisfaction.
That’s what he told me and it clearly shows.
I’d burn down that house if it weren’t for those children.
He’s telling me I’ve got to believe him.
I can’t just do that.
It’s not like I don’t trust because I’ve been deceived.
I’m such a good liar myself, I know how easy it is to give false statements.
"Everyone lies," they all say.
But are they as bad as I am?
I’d give anything for you to stay.
You’ve just got no idea what I’ve done.
But they’re all just random thoughts,
and plotted lines mostly coming from my mind.
Not from the heart.
its things like this that really help me reflect on myself. and by doing that i realize how fucked up i really am. im constantly on a search for something. i look for something i think i want, and i get it. then i realize it wasnt what i wanted at all. it doesnt do anything for me. id like to know what it is i actually want. id like to stop feeling like im constantly on the prowl for something that might not even exist. i have opportunities, and i dont take them. even the smallest of opportunities. i think i enjoy living alone up here. away from everyone. surrounded by strangers who i can be whoever i want to be around. but it hasnt made me any happier than when i was back at home. but i still choose not to go out at every opportunity i get. then i realize how unhappy i am. when im around people, my problems are only in the back of my mind. not circling throughout my entire brain. i strive to make new and better relationships with people. but once theyre made, i fuck them up. i sometimes want to feel like im addicted to something. something accessible just so i can feel like it will be there for me when i need it. but ive gotten addicted to substances before, and i didnt enjoy it. i dont even know where else to go with this. because none of it makes any more sense than to anyone else who might read this. so ill leave it at that. im sick of looking.
stop and go down the hill i see an accident up ahead
i pass it by and wait to see the bodyless head.
all i saw was crushed hoods and bumbers of the car and truck.
nothing interesting to see today, and just to my luck,
the sign says to watch out for congestion.
please dont get me sick, highway 17,
ive got people to do, places to see
ive got to pilot a giant plane to miami.
but im not going for the beaches and things.
im going to grasp and clasp in my palm specific brains.
ill take that brain and cradle it in my preteen looking hands.
on a bench i will sit and the brain will stand
unslouched and handsome like the body it belongs to.
then ill look down and see the word Why? written on the bottom of his left shoe.
ill hold the brain hostage and say you cannot have it back.
youre coming back with me, so go ahead and start to pack.
you wont need much; just some clothes, records, and a pen.
come here, and you can have your brain back again.
in the meantime ill take of it with great care.
without it ill only see from you a blank complacent stare.
so pack quick, we can fly back together
on a carpet made of red, yellow, and orange leather.
nothing made of blue.