it's kind of amazing what a person will do to fake a smile

mimicking repetitive values.

know what i mean?
what i mean?
what this means?

mistletoe kisses and 4pm hangovers

every year christmas loses it's touch.
that 6am bloodrush. children chasing reindeer feet on rooftop dreams.
a new one is approaching. beckoning.
swallowing pasts.

merry christmas.

next year i hope i'll be spending it with you.


loveetc

splinters and coffee tables

ouch.
i always want what i can't have.
when the fight is too easy i feel like i've already left.
battle's mutate into wars.
you'll never understand this. you'll never get it.

what you've got means shit to me

hey baby, tonight i'll be lost in the city lights
drinking myself under the table.

let's go and let some bad decisions make us.
touche.

hairspray hearts

someday we'll get on a train and only get off when we're at the other end of the world.
that's when you'll really see what goes on in my head.
and you'll work out what i am.

and you'll never see it coming.
sorry.

18

today was truly, awesomely brilliant.

thank you.


loveetc

katiebeth xo

ladies and gentlemen, may i present...

the most fabulously pathetically self-centered and insecure asshole to waste our air.
she has a list of faults longer than the one of names saved for judgement day.
everything you hear is always true.
gold.
no one matters when your world circulates for airwaves.
"don't stop me now", i'm making legacies and you're history.
everyone changes, but this one is mutating.
avoiding mirrors like cracks in the sidewalk.

they're dying to be different
parading variations of smiles.
drugstore romeos and streetcars.
elysian fields lead to cemeteries.
breaking hearts and banks simultaneously.

fuck you all.

hello darling, this is just a note to say

i never believed you anyway.

flamboyantly decorated with pictures of the murder scene

we all have landmarks in the form of stains on t-shirts.
that doesn't mean we're the same. we're nothing but legacies and newspaper cuttings.
antique lipstick sticks to vintage pictures of bands we once loved.
that didn't love us back.
live shows that where we screamed to make our throats bleeds.
his is the twelfth night. this is much ado about nothing at all.
everyone's spectacular.
kindergarten blood lusts.
heart beat symphonies.
i can hear everything you think.
vials of poison line kitchen sinks.

searching for the emergency i left when i called in.
everyone runs when you lose the decoration.
dust and ashes.

a box of rocks

this gold is too new to touch.
i have nightmares of getting burned -
somehow we just can't learn.
backstage london, glasgow alleys.
feet trapped in gutters as flood rise.
freeze or fall away.
breathing through gaps in the generation.
breaking fingernail on window panes, scratching your way out.
the seventeen year itch. witches set alight.
i want to burn in the dead of night just to keep this spark alive.

i want to watch the moon rotate a while in your eyes.

my floor is littered with rejected lyrics, tantrums and cold cups of coffee

i keep my best ideas under the bed
pressed against the monsters i found in my head.
bad dreams. reversable fantasies.

lately every picture i see of myself makes my mind churn.
stomach acid burn.
i wake up in the morning and imagine i'm anyone but me, anywhere but here.
i'd even be her if i had half the chance.
my mirror has glazed over from lack of use. i'm tired of seeing reflected insecurities.
if only some one could see what i see.
i'm rolling my eyes at myself with every word i breathe.

thank you for loving me regardlessly.
maybe some day i'll try doing the same thing.

disputes

circles are closing in
swallowing
breaking barriers of politics and sexuality.
we've all got stories to spill into strangers laps.
everyone has a message and a legacy to leave behind.
some of us cry into pillowcases, or down wrists -
drips of tears off fingertips.
we're holding onto cracks in our foundations, fixing brickwork with smiles we force onto lips.
this is going to be a long night.
monsters under the bed haunt you even when your eyes are wide
everything's resting on this line.
tomorrow is nothing more than wasted time.
take both her hands in yours and feel the feeling of feeling adored.

maybe it'll all be worth it after all.


loveetc

the world sounds like static

i even bottle 'bottling it'.
i have a hot touch and city rush.
fingertips on swollen lips - don't make a sound.
we're the kids made of sweat and heavy breaths.
car seats and headboard creaks.
rated PG 13.
we're high on that sugar rush, or blood lust.
plastic vampire teeth in napes of necks.
role play.
downing vodka but tasting bleach
maybe it's time we cut back on the speeches.
monologues and soliloquies.
we're all (oxy)morons.
newspaper print circumscribed on palms.
tiara's make princesses.

white steads make princes.
chain mail won't protect you anymore than this will.

the painful casualty of predictability

a regulated emergency in all shades of red and grey.
pale passions and community service.

i seem to be (only) capable of indecision. last year it wouldn't have been a problem.
now my heart beat races a little. grand national standards.
breathing quickens like it's been doing all weak.
anxiety burns the cross on my chest.
it's inexplainable, but i'm falling behind again.
if you'd like to call me right now, i'd smile just for you -
i need to know that you know what i'm going through.

circles are closing in on us, i need a break.
a chance to say, let's take a day, and remind ourselves why we came.

once i get home you're dead / extremist prose on the bullet in the back of your head

maybe tomorrow we'll change the world.
act like someone sensational to get ourselves heard.
the lights are on in ghost towns, but no one's home.
abandoned and disillusioned, we pay debts with confusions.
it's the confession not the priest that brings us absolution.
50's dresses in space houses - clash of the times,
the titans are long gone.
giants are only tyrannous when they realise how small we are. don't fill them in unless you're sure.
and even then rethink yourself.
second guesses and rosebud kisses.
pillow conversations say more than eyes open ever could. fingertips on napes of necks -
slip and it breaks.
clean cuts are all the rage, but easier said than planned.
i'll spell this out so you completely understand:

i mean nothing i say, but i say everything i mean.
sometimes you won't see it until you look between the lines.
fingertip graffiti - i'll write your name on your wrist so you can watch as you cut yourself open.
my name will catch crimson fears.
we'll intertwine under moonlight.
until you realise you'll never be mine, and go back to her like we both knew you would.
because ultimately, this will never be enough.

this whine is almost good enough to drink

calling all disaster fashionistas:
"i need you to know, i'm just skin and bones".
exceptionally irrelevant, fighting the feeling of feeling alone.

waking up minus those pixilated codeine kisses
is like losing lovers and fantasies.
did you forget what you were running from?

i can't look at myself in the mirror anymore.
fallen out of love with that look in my eyes.
the one that destroys everything that makes me feel alive.
perhaps tomorrow we'll break-out of these habits and charm our way into
chances.
accordian apprentices.
black tongues in hollow cheeks scream for the yearning to feel your lungs burning.
stand tall, they'll sell souls to watch you fall, this is beautiful dissonance.
car journeys at 2am down country roads without headlights.
we'll lose more than our pride and won't feel a thing.
you lost her on the inside.

repeat then rewind.


loveetc

misconceptions

days dance into nights when eyes blurr while you're standing to attention.
pour yourself another drink, who cares what the neighbours think.
my password is 1989.
i imagine you saving me, and then turning 180 and saving yourself.
hades rules hell with an iron fist.. children on wishlists in grottos.
some things clear your head. some things make you believe everything you've read.
i make you go crazy for everything we said.
'us' was never a synonym for forever.
dropping cherries for lovers, a refund we can't reclaim.
leaving wills and sentiments into microphones. writing black secrets into lyrics that no one will fully understand.
my fingertips are lightening.
these scissors are almost frightening.
she'll show them what it means to be free - alley cats and police batons. every purpose.
shakng and shivering, he records the way she shed her skin on stage, gyrating high on podiums. selling sould in cages made of gold.
eyes freeze framing.
hearts beating to dance music DJs.
we sold our jewelry for trips to foreign countries.
fire burns rivers in cheekbones, marking years in weathered skin.
lips stretch to form regrets. she wrote this before you'd even thought of it.
perhaps someone's writing songs a little too tragic.
mabe she's trying to tell you all about it. the lullabyes that sing her to sleep until she wakes up choking on her dreams.
nightmares that only haunt her when he eyes are open.
headboards and headstones are marked by the same intials. signatures without homes.
streets missing signposts and addresses to ghost towns.

i don't want to be afraid anymore.

tell him he died a hero / catch the bullet with your teeth

sometimes, to be extraordinary, you've got to be ordinary first.
everyone's special. and when everyone is, no one is.
my room and head are trashed.
bombsite's. the shit goes down.
this ship sinks.
this is a little convoluted, but absolutely contingent.
we can't resist getting pissed
to drown our dreams and memories -
between puking up in bathroom sinks
you pour yourself another drink.
this is judgement day. reckoning.
silly pretty boy, she doesn't love you like i do.
or maybe i just like twisting thruths.
manipulation.
rigid fiction.
fairytales based on traffic jams and 9-5 working days.
my nails are painted yellow.
you're pure gold.

1989

only beating hearts can be broken.
considering sending the block of ice in my chest to hell.
i'm insecure and insignificant.
always the dreamer and never the dream.
this is civil war inside my head -
mass murder in both regiments.

everything i wrote yesterday was inspirational.
today it just seems trivial.

i'd give up, but i'm afraid to let go.
i really don't want to fall.

what did you say? this is all for the best?

sorry, you're wrong.
these are the causes of the mistakes that make wars.
we sweet-talk to pillows in the hope we'll open our eyes and you'll be sleeping underneath our fingertips.

"tellmetellmetellme."
can'ts and won'ts seem to walk hand in hand these days.
memories and moments we try to replace.
not that i think you'll hate me, because that's just not true -
but opening lips will break more than just rules.
one more cut and we'll fall apart through fingertips.
slip on lingerie and dance on pedestals in cages -
see but don't touch unless you're slipping monopoly money into waistbands.

everyone thinks smiles are free.
sorry honey, mine are paid for by the trash treasury -
saving them up for rainy days.
this is just my way.
fuck dying in your arms and kisses on blue lips.
i write my own fairytales.
heroines disfigured in fires. heroes paralysed after forgetting how to fly.
scribble out the truth and replace it with lies, or compromise.
collaboration is overrated, so whisper fantasies and cliches into ears and headphones
this is just how it goes.
hold my covers tight: be my day and night.
the moon to light my way.

show her she means more than ever to you today.

we painted these roses red

i did it.
fought it.
ran from it.
beat it into submission.
wore its outsides on my insides.
showed the world how it didn't matter any more.

these are avalanches. snow storms.
warm breath on cold mornings.
high altitude headrushes.

my mind is a maze.
my eyes are a map.
my finger tips are a time line.

standing on trainlines we know all that we never knew.
it's never as fascinating as you tell yourself it has to be.
the glass is always colder on the other side.
eyes reflecting moonlight.
lullabyes to grave sides. pretended this will be something prevalent.
pills to set off shakes.
shakes to spill your heart into headphone's.

keep that little blue disk spinning.
we're 7" from winning pulses and lips.
these are the stories to tell the grandkids.
unbreakable.

this chemical imbalance is just an excuse to say, "kid, you're fucked up."

swear it's bad luck, or no luck at all.
knights on horses wielding egos and swords -
all armour and not much else. i know how it feels to be afraid of help.
the words have always been an obsession, but this is something new,
the bordello of your subconcious is open to fire.
each guy here drags his own shadow.
porcelain dreams.
diamond hearts.
we're the kids that claim to be unbreakable.
i swear to god everything you hear is always true.

the distance between us is dangerous -
sometimes i wish time would just stand still, so we'll never grow old and out of date.

stealing lines from overrated bands isn't my forte -
actually, that's a lie, i do it all the time.
nothing you see is me.
i'm a double shot espresso.
looking precious and precocious is all part of the show.

this is nothing but excessive procrastination and indecision.
you get it, or you don't.
i didn't want to admit it, but things haven't changed as much as she thinks they have.
i'm throwing out, "i'm only human"s when i get caught out,
and this time it's grown old.
vintage without that loving feeling.

roll the credits on these rainy-day kids.
we'll never seem the same.

money for pleasure

you and me, we're pulling knives out of backs like it's going out of style -
with the way you've been talking it, you'd think you'd walk it something special.
backstreet doctors prescribing pills to make up for something less prevalent.
i know, i know, we've been here too many times before, she says
but god it just feels so good this way.
faces flash in compacts, tucking notes into half-price lingerie she swears on his life she's telling the truth -
slipping and sweating apologies and prayers in the left side of the confessional booth.
he's been convicted for fraud of pretending to be adored.
degeneration.
to hell with our good reputations.

these are kisses goodnight under the lampost, out of sight, to fuck the cliche of by the front door.
i'm just the girl afraid of second chances.
sad steps.
say yes.

hansel and gretal

i read people as easily as you read these words.
except i see inside and out. i doubt you're doing the same.
but sometimes my insecurities get the better of me and i see things that aren't there -
illusions i create for myself.
mysticism and miracles, power without wands or spells.
sighing without realising, wishing days away while preserving seconds
dancing in hooker heels on street corners for money in top hats.
they're sending cards to pay their dues
with thoughts in between the lines of "i'm glad it's not me, but you."
accuse her of being the reason you can't face you own reflection.
convince yourself she's why you shrug your shoulders to shake off your shadow.
we all have secrets. some pass lips -
others are ironic.
let's look at this hypothetically shall we?
if someone told you they were driving themselves crazy, how would you take it?
silence is golden until you force that laugh that makes awkward situations blush in a series of quick-fire excuses.
a rush of, "you know i was only joking, right?"s, cut the tension with a knife.
this is the derailment you imagined. mirages.
the city rushes past insects and make a bigger impact than when it passes us.
blank it out, choke it down, everything ends "happily ever after" now.

expostulations at 3am

i'm a borderline personality - somewhere between the person i am
and the one i try to be.
maybe she's more than hair dye and kohl eyes -
maybe these are just masks to hide behind.
if you could choose one person just to sit by and watch them smile, who would it be?
if there was no tomorrow, whose hand would you hold to the ends of today?
hypotheses of yesterdays. front page news, jazz house blues.
poetry scratched into the undersides of fast-food joint tables.

waking up in early hours clutching pavements.
holding on for your life only to realise there was never any chance of falling.
follow this path, it's he only one you have -
until you make a detour to the wrong side of town and send all those predestined plans to hell.
the tables turn an catch him off guard. everything he touches is golden -
and at the same time, nothing is.

sit down, gather round, and i'll tell you a tale better than you're life could ever be.
involving everything you'll never acheive.
the problem is: these cliches lack originality.
and that's half the fun.
learn some responsibilty -
better yet, escape to neverland.


happy hallow'een.
scare someone senseless.

i bought my heart on ebay...

but it was in a pretty shitty condition, so i sent it back.
been watching the Matrix. that film is all shades of amazing.
"i know kung fu!"
i wish i did. insecurities don't matter when you can kick ass.
i'm a constant updater in the vague archieves.
i never say what i mean, but i mean what i say.
down that drink and repeat it until it makes sense.

i want some peanut butter out of the jar on a spoon.

this isn't a break-out, it's a take-over

if i just wanted to sit and talk, would you be happy to just sit and listen?
i'd pay your way with a smile or two, just for you.

if you knew i loved you, would you love me back?
together we could burn the world down and out.

if i gave you my heart, would you promise not to break it?
bearing in mind it's only held together by lies.
this is the brutally truthful.

i miss those days where nothing happens. where you could be anyone, and anything -
but by choice you're happy being you.
i'm not saying i could kiss it better,
but together we could give it a damn good try.

tour guides for wet dreams

what goes around comes around.
and sometimes they come screaming.
i want to feel your fingertips on my skin, so i know that you won't just brush through me -
i want you to prove to me i'm not as invisible as i feel.
so you want somebody to cure these lonely nights -
solitude is a way of life.
wild animal insticts of survival were sacrificed for the vainest of Romantic ideals.
heads and hearts in glass cases in art museums. decorated in all shades of emergency.
it's breaking me down watching the world going round without me.
can anybody hear me, because i just can't hear myself.
take a photo, it might last longer than i do.

hey euphony

hey pretty baby, this is all you ever wanted.
today i was reminded why i stayed away from your side of town.
this is who i really am. maybe. possibly.
okay, so i take that all back.
conversations of hello's and goodbye's don't really lead to anything, you know.
taking tips from sex addicts on how to get laid. on how to get your adrenalin fix in the only way
you can think of.
these are nothing but circles -
round here we're kings and queens of hearts.
close your eyes and fall off the earth.
fall off the map.
lose yourself to find a purpose.
no one deserves it, but to me you're imperfectly perfect.

she never asked for a saviour, you know.
she never expected a hero.
stop trying so hard to be her one and everything -
you're already there.
savour her taste. you don't know how lucky you are.

a toothbrush in every timezone

mirrors reflect thousands of photos.
mine reflects thousands of truths i'd rather keep hidden. dirty little secrets.
i'm a twisted goldilocks - sneaking around my own life like a criminal waiting to be caught.
i'm dorian grey, except my face is the painting, and it's twisting round every move i make. every breath i take.
i'm a skeleton structure of words and whispers of everything i've done and everything i haven't.
of course i'll take the blame, offload your sins onto my white shoulders, i can support the world.
believe everything you hear, it's always true.
stab in the cheek, kiss on the back.
tongues offering razorblade kisses and sure-fire misses.
every morning is spent yearning for every night. days blurr into years in the wink of an eye.

we're all just sharks and butterflies.
dangerous, but fragile.
vicious, but beautiful.

i'll rip out my heart and pin it to my sleeve
with a note that reads
"you mean oh-so-much to me".

i want to focus my eye on lovers and life - on success and ambition.
instead i'm blind to everything except beauty and aesthetics.
the vainest of Romantics.
i'd sell my soul for a second in the future, a polaroid that tells me this will all be worth it in the end.
a snap-shot of a true smile on a face i might just recognise from somewhere.
a mirror reflection that let's me know, someday, everything will be okay.

virginal call girls

some days i have so many thoughts and phrases and expressions and quotations and images that it's like a small nuclear war in my head.
each is just as powerful and dangerous and prominant, but it would only take one of them to take off, and i'd be a gonner.
boom.
devastation.

other days however...
other days i feel simple. but inexplicable.
unbelievable. but easily explained.
i don't have enough words to describe today.
and my limit has already been used up in my livejournal.
feel free to take a read... if you can find it.

all-in-one

i'm so sick even the air seems to be avoiding me for fear of infection.
it would explain why i'm finding it so hard to inhale lately.
i'm hot, i'm cold - and then i'm nothing at all.
i've got a fever and i'm burning down.
a candle with no flame, just smoke.

message for today: love gives you strength you never knew you had.


and sometimes it gives you the balls to use that strength in ways you never imagined.

imagine this...

speak

just for the record, the weather today is overly defensive and on the brink of denial.

mclovin

go see superbad.
now.

a glance from her, the whole city goes down

cracked rubies and dirt incased in diamonds.
perfect imperfection.
echo games in glass houses - the mirrors warp faces and names into people we pretend to know.
"simon says, do something incredible today"
heroes don't die. at least not on the front page of the new york times.
page three girls making fame infamous.
government dogs and ally cats.
fighting blind men with pictures of sunlight in prisms.
so hard, so hard to smile.
morning-after eyeliner and mascara tears.
rivers marking histories of seventeen years.
i learnt about life in text books - black and white.
seeing crimson in bathtubs. writing lines in skin and minds.
she forgot to breathe, that'll teach her to die for the attention.
suicide chic.

peaceandfuckinglove

i guess i never knew

i'm lost for words.
shell-shocked.

i...

they say the future's out to get you

my favourite colour is yellow.
my favourite flowers are sunflowers.
my favourite jokes are the worst ones.

i'm a walking contradiction.
make me smile.
make my day.

a lesson in biology

i talk a lot about hearts.
funny that, as i'm currently trying to work out if i've still got mine.
or if i ever had one in the first place.
i watched as you scratched our names into a table, between 'rob 4 janice 4eva' and 'no fringe no minge'.
what is there not to love about that?
i saw the future mapped out in a picture of the new york skyline.
brooklyn bridge shines brighter than you do.
i spent too many nights living out of second-hand photo albums.
i can't look myself in the eye. i'd buy you a way out with the change i carry in those bags.
crop circles but less spectacular.
i'm always asking too much and expecting too little.
avoiding body contact at all times incase you brush right through me.
afraid i'm as invisible as i feel.
she's done with him painting her cheekbones black and her ribs blue.
inside a dream but breathing a nightmare.
fuck being on the best side of your bedside -
i passed up stains on sheets for eyes just as easy as words.
and look where that got me.

peaceandfuckinglove

(un)welcome

chipped nail varnish.
dog-eared notebooks.
graffitti no-one else understands.

those are a few of my favourite things.


i'm scared witless of being scared.
although mostly i scare myself.
funny that.


i've been staring at the moon for god knows how long.
i don't think it's ever looked brighter.
i can't help but wonder if you're doing the same.
say yes, and i just might hear you.

macavity: the mystery cat

joke about the eyes you can feel but can't see
delirious from the feeling of feeling complete.
I’m writing history with this guitar –
something tells me we went too far
but that’s always been the case.
I wanted to write something inspired here, but I’m finding it hard to feel inspirational.
I love running with scissors, even though in the back of my mind I can see the warning lights flashing.
the smallest risks are the most exhilarating.
getting frozen hearts beating.
stop, rewind then reply –
I think I watched a show like this on tv.
lovers past heroin addictions: being hooked on failure is all the rage nowadays.
I recorded the aftermath to watch it back and force a laugh
to prove to myself this never mattered.
drunk on the contrast,
on hearts and scars that just won’t last.

children in third world countries starve and cry and fall down to die.
politicians tell us this is bad.
we don’t need to be told when and how to feel compassion.
but then again, how can we journey into countries so far away, in both distance and decade, and tell them how to play the game of life and loss
when we still have so many hearts beating on our own streets after hours, that don’t belong there?
when we have people living in poverty on our own doorsteps?
when our own children are crying out in our mother tongue, that we just don’t hear?
telling other countries what they’re doing wrong, when we have people in similar positions on our own streets, is little more than hypocritical.

that’s my two cents – now go buy something for your ego’s with them.

these four things...

for my seventeenth birthday, a certain boy bought me a poetry book.
it was small enough to carry in my pocket – he told me this was so that i’d always feel inspired, no matter where i was.
it was a book of poems children had picked out by themselves.
some were two lines long.
others lasted pages.
in the back of the book, he wrote one himself.
it was four lines long.
and it was pretty bad.

i think that was the day i fell in love with him.


hey kid, you’ll never live this down –
i don’t think anyone knew
we’ve got a history of train wrecks hidden in these pretty smiles.


i miss you more than you know.

all panic, no disco

eyes are sunken treasures from crying underwater.
lost boys and neurasthenic girls get coloured lights going.
a year ago we were in a different world.
in a streetcar named desire we're blinded by brass and big, big stars -
we want to be where they are.
but then we think twice and almost appreciate our normal lives.

you would kill for it - don't try to deny this.
she's looking like christmas morning in everything and nothing.
especially nothing.
throwing flowers for the dead and turning the tricks.
the glass cracks.
we fall through.


congratulations honey, i'm your secret admirer.
if i told you, would you not-so-secretly admire me back?

gimme, gimme (more)

i have no regrets.
all the candle-wishes i ever made came true.
i never lost a love because i was too scared to hold on tight enough.
certain songs don't make me cry more than you did.
i thought i'd make everyone proud, more than you are now.
i'll never breakdown.
i know you'll always be there to hold my hand -
pirouette round the baby grand.
i didn't mean it when i said, "i love you", and that's why my heart didn't break when you didn't say it back.
i never felt that way.
i never wanted you to say, "honey, you take my breath away".

but tell me, would you be surprised
if i told you everything i just said was a lie?

in the wink of an eye

these words were never easier for me to say, we all want to be big stars -
but then we realise we never meant to go this far.
back track, rewind.
back to the streets we left behind
in the search of something beautiful that we already had.
paranoid, we can't avoid, living in denial.
i'd kill to feel the way the pictures portrayed
landslides swallow dream(er)s whole.

if i told you i needed you, would you keep me on track?
if i told you i loved you, would you take me back?

can't you tell i'm a little unstable?

you've got the whole night on your collar (smoke, sex and lies).
i think you owe me for decieving me so exquisitely.

i don't want to lie, but i can't tell the truth. so it's over.

you'll be my whore and i'll pay you with liberty,
tell me something that't true.

this is going to hurt (like a bitch).

we exist in separate spheres, that occasionally collide.
i see you in the rear view mirror -
running after this car crash heart.

copy and paste

my paper heart just tore in half.

call me, and we'll make a plan

faster, faster, faster...
what are you running from?

36,000 feet into nowhere. flashing smiles and cards in the hope someone recalls who you are.
seven minutes wasn't long enough, and now i want to go back. back, back.
like cats with nine lives... until we're hit hard, and suddenly we wonder where those back-ups went.
slurring through candle-lit dinners for two.
we've got nothing left to lose/prove.
take my lucky number and reverse it for the same effect.
counting down the weeks until you're gone forever. beg your heart to break to convince yourself you still feel the same way.
the clocks ticking {or counting down}. i used to know everything, and now i can't even figure myself out.
bet your dreams on candle wishes on days you can't control. or you don't want to control.
i told you i'd only say it once, but i lied.
it's a habbit, or a hobby. or both.

well done, you passed the test. pour the champagne and celebrate your success.
if you figured this out, you have my phone number circumscribed in the palm of your hand.

say hi.

i think i'm dreaming...

and i'm scared to open my eyes on the offchance that i'm right.
bruised thighs and eyes just a little too wide.
head lights. moon light.
we're all just rabbits caught off guard in roads.

gemini

you never meant to say it, did you?
the red stillettos and matching lipstick didn't really tell them anything.
so you thought you'd fill their pretty, empty heads with pretty, empty words.
inside they're crying and you missed it.
kiss it better like you do.
you know it's all because of you.

heads made up of regrets and "i wish i hadn't..."s.
spectacularly unspectacular.

i'm an asbestos touch, a nitroglycerin fuck.
an "i really shouldn't, but..."

"shit. shit. shit"

ouch.

buy one get one free

i'll wipe your teenage smiles off your faces.
i'll show you places even God avoids.
the slums of my head.
brimstone flames lick the souls of my feet.

i'm writing fairytales where hansel and gretel were eaten alive by the witch in the dream cottage.
where cinderella never met her prince, and spent the rest of her life in rags and contaminated skin.
contagious.
fear and fame. flashes and flames.
smashing mirrors and breaking palm readers hands.

i make my own luck.
and then i sell it - half-price if you buy my soul.

not that you'd want it.
it's not much use to me.
it'll be even less use to you.

let's not pretend that we...

the look in her eyes is enviable,
is it typical of every girl you've fucked before.
give me a hundred reasons why we can't make this work anymore.

you want to start over.
you want to get under.
it's all two of the same.
this is how you get by,
baby boy, don't let her see her make you cry.

make her scream with your hands on her hips.
loose lips sink ships,
and this one will look so pretty at the bottom of the sea.

i can see your lips moving, but all i can hear is "blah, blah, blah".

i'm a precipitated emergency.
foggy like london but without all the class and dignity.
keep your ears to the ground, but your eyes to their hearts,
when you've got everything left to lose, bet on the longshots.

full of miscalculated efforts at organising these tears and plans into futures and vows.
this is how everything starts and ends all at once.
i'm crazy for the sparkle that tells me, "this is it"
romances last terrorist.

i could have had it all,
but i just couldn't take the risk.

curb sleepers and cocaine souls

i hand over bunches of cemetary roses in the pretence the romance is still alive.
i'll fall asleep in the mirror, watching the lights go out in my eyes.
go on, shoot off your mouth before they can retaliate with arms.
shot gun. stun gun.

everyone's dead anyway.

stop. think again. go anyway.

ha.

i just lost my mind.
how careless of me.

this stun gun carnival has blasted precious braincells out of my mouth -
and into your lap.
we've all got cinderblocks in hand and a steady aim.

i froze 'us' with the block of ice in the cage in my chest.

"sorry honey, we don't sell new hearts here. try ebay."

some want to be lions.
others want to be cats.
but everybody wants to be everything they're not.

i gave up your bedsheets for half-hearted interpretations of dreams.
i'm tired of selling souls at the side of the road for thoughts not even worth pennies.

this is the guilt distillery functioning at maximum capacity.
viewer discretion advised when disguising mistakes with goodbyes.
hearts are canvas' -
and i'm ready to graffiti my shit all over them.

let me tell you, read all about it.

some days i wake up and imagine saving the world.
other days i can't even work out how to save myself.

timelines

i'm trying so hard to remember when carefree became careless...

the very best of...

the smiles we cashed away for rainy days.

i can talk to you, as long as you don't say anything.
my head is a buzz of people and places and situations that passed me by.
in the wink of baby blue eyes.
home is a hive, and i never learnt how to pay my way.

want to hear a secret?
from me to you?
verse and words defined/disguised my metaphors and slurs of "i fucking l-l-love you".
sure you do(n't).

drink up, time's up.

monday

my face is made-up.
yours in an autobiography.
slipping on a little white lie and high heals.
ready for a night on the town?
sick of all the speculation in this gentleman's charade.
i woke up without your breath on the back of my neck, and now i feel homesick for places i've never been.
i was too afraid to say "i love you" so i wrote it down for you to read.
then i changed my mind.
we go for quantity, not quality.
i spend nights lying next to you, thinking how to get out of the room without the floorboards creaking you awake.
grace glides on blistered feet.

is this everything you ever wanted?
sometimes i wonder...

build them up to cash in on breaking them down

BANG.

i would have taken the bullet for you, 'cept it was me pulling the trigger.
sorry. or not.
i wish i was.
these are just window pains. look closely and you'll see straight through me.
we wake up with the whole world at our feet. then we hunch over computer screens in the hope of breaking into something unbelieveable.
unforgettable.
hope and hype. one at a time please.
i've got a logbook full of candle wishes that never came true.
writing letters of complaint to addresses in ghost towns.
my head wrote this for revenge. my heart sealed it with a kiss.
read it like a crime scene report. or an autopsy.
can you remember how the vinyl feels?
i cut my heart out just to be sure that i had one.
we're whispering war poetry like love songs.
a decay of hope between guillotines and loving.

inside i'm laughing at you.
or at me.

eyes like television screens and mouths like glossy magazines

goodbye, goodluck, good god.
she's gone.

why do we insist on thinking we're important enough for someone to remember to forget us?

i'll try not to make that mistake.

i'm (only) good at faking it like i care

rain pelts on rooftops and screams against window pains.
cutting tensions like butchers knives. flesh turns to butter.
tears to salt in wounds deeper than your eyes.
words bruise darker than the queen of hearts.
summer nights and fist fights.

your masks are slipping off all your faces.
make-up's dripping off mine in beads of sweat from stages.
hit this in your veins and you'll never be the same.
tomorrow's not better, just different.
same with the kids of today.

i fear everything but falling.

suns set in her eyes and rise in his mind.
the rain stops.
we lost.

i sing in my sleep when i'm alone with you

wait. what?

"every 'sorry' you whisper into my ear makes the next even more worthless"

i fought and kicked and screamed for love.
i want it rough and in handcuffs.

off limits.

cold like clay stars

"i try, i really do, but i just don't understand you."
"that's okay. i don't understand me either."

cheshire cats and afternoon kisses

i miss the times when we could take risks. when we ran towards the danger.
now we don't even have any fear to hide from.
except from ourselves.
the food and drink is sugarfree. colourfree. funfree.
this bank has cut it's interest down to 0%.

i went on a swing today. it was old and had been out of use for a while.
like my heart.
i love swings. or maybe i love the way they mess with my head.
we fly forwards until we reach the top of our game, and every inch of your body burns for our fingers to slip off the chains so we can soar higher and faster and better than anyone else.
but we don't.
and we fall away.
back, back, back.

i shut my eyes and jumped.
i haven't hit the ground yet.

give me time.

blink

and you'll miss it.

but it's better if you don't

you're stood windows away from me. i can see you, but i can't touch you.
or is it you that can't touch me?
i'm confused. i lost my place in the fairytale, and now it doesn't make sense.
the music sounds better through other people's headphones.
mine send the words buzzing through my skull.
stinging with the words they're singing.

you're fire. i'm ice.
elephants and mice.
it started as a romance. and then i woke up.
"all this hate is gonna burn you up"

i realised today, that i'm never going to be anything comparable to her.
she's everything you ever wanted, isn't she?
or maybe i'm just everything you never wanted.
i confess, we passed our lives up so we wouldn't have to fuck them up.

her eyes are torches into her soul.
spark up. lookallover.

oh baby, you took too long to risk it.
and you missed it.

45 minutes to make the bandages stick

i've seen ships come in, only to go back out sinking.
blink and you missed it.
kiss her, kiss him.
they'll never notice the lipstick stains on...ssh. this is a little too provocative.
i'm sending out mixed messages, because my brain can't rearrange them.

thank you. thank you for having me.

apologies. mistakes make wars.
bad news is good news in reverse.
the breaths between the words make them worse.

thank you.

she wears her sunglasses at night to hide the secret she keeps in her eyes

i'll hold onto the wings of a hero, take me away, take me away.
if i call out to you, will you come back and save me?
i watched the moon collapse behind the horizon. i watched you collapse behind the closed bathroom door.
drowning (in) your sorrows.
i'm the one hiding behind your eyelids, waiting for when you're the most vulnerable.
you caught me by surprise, i'll admit it.
they all caught on. i missed the announcement.
preoccupied by my own tragedy.
oblivious to the newest stories.

this is front page news for us.
and only us.

we've got something big here.
but no one's noticed.

love...

"it began as a mistake. it ended as a war"

this is news and note hot off the rails.
i throw out "i'm only human" when i get caught out.
i talk to you from another time-zone. my head and heart are off-key.
i'm a double shot espresso. or a narcotic breakdown.
give me a chance and i'll show you how to breathe underwater.
hypocrisy looks best on me, especially with that shade of black and blue.

"repeated history as in, we're hiding your pills"

nervous thrills.
do you bask in the limelight or does it seek you out?
hellogoodbyeagain.

this is the headline of the weak, draped and displayed.
we'll pay to watch him fall down.
what happens when the queen of hearts hits back?
this all means more in the corners of dance floors.
love me or leave me. actually, flip and reverse it.
i never wanted this anyway.
the witness protests his innocence looking down from french windows.

"they don't scream for me, they scream for you."
"maybe. but i scream for you."

"it began as a mistake. it ended as a war"

this is news and note hot off the rails.
i throw out "i'm only human" when i get caught out.
i talk to you from another time-zone. my head and heart are off-key.
i'm a double shot espresso. or a narcotic breakdown.
give me a chance and i'll show you how to breathe underwater.
hypocrisy looks best on me, especially with that shade of black and blue.


"repeated history as in, we're hiding your pills"
nervous thrills.

do you bask in the limelight or does it seek you out?
hellogoodbyeagain.


this is the headline of the weak, draped and displayed.
we'll pay to watch him fall down.
what happens when the queen of hearts hits back?
this all means more in the corners of dance floors.
love me or leave me. actually, flip and reverse it.

i never wanted this anyway.

the witness protests his innocence looking down from french windows.



"they don't scream for me, they scream for you."
"maybe. but i scream for you."

home truths

it's not schizophrenia, if you get along with the voices inside your head.
it's not romance, if every 'i love you' ends up in bed.

not so conventional

good mornin' darlin'. ready to slick on your face for the crowds? keep running in a straight line, because they're waiting to cash in on your mistakes. this cloud has a lining of blues. silverhues.

notperfect. notquiteimperfection.

i have no words

i have no...

these butterflies became lions

"i'd cry crocodile rivers for us."
i already do.

moonlight reflects in her eyes and you know, "she'll be alright".

we spent summer nights under the city lights. we're a little nostalgic for the hardest times we ever had.

i miss things never going right. because then it didn't matter.
now everyone notices when you fall down.
and they don't offer you a hand, because you're old/wise/good enough to get up all on your own.

everyone is an open wound. you're the salt in mine.
you're the canary we'll send down first.
test this. record it. bottle and sell it.

life gave me lemonade, and i had to transform it back into lemons again.

ha.

"just a fond farewell to a friend who couldn't get things right"

dear you...

thanks. for nothin'. or everything. i'm not sure which.
the lipstick stains your teeth simultaneously with the lies staining your tongue.
but the latter can't be fixed for your reflection.
i know. i've tried to fix myself too many times before.

believe in me, 'cause i don't believe in anything. or anyone.
so i guess this is goodbye.
or just goodnight.
we'll find out in the morning.

this isn't a bruise. it's just the colour of my heart showing through.
black from thoughts of me and you.
some days i just want to get up and run.
not to anywhere, and not from anywhere.
just because i can.
to feel the wind in my hair and the burn of the tarmac on my feet.
to feel the bite of reality.
sink your teeth into me. i hope my taste stays with you forever.

let me go. for the last time.
there's nothing between us anymore. except air.
well, that's what i keep telling you.
and that's what i'll always tell you.
because the road i'm on doesn't have room for two.

so again, goodbye.
or goodnight.

we'll find out in the morning.

love, but not quite,

me xx

i love every/no thing about you

the sun rises and crashes in rear-view mirrors.

god was too late this time. next time. last time for us.

my eyelids drop. presenting flashes of the past on center stage.
i don't want to die, but i don't want to live this way.
hold me close for the last time. i'll miss you.
i'll wait for you.
death is a life commitment. how ironically wonderful.

please love me, just so i can tell God i was loved.
don't turn me away from the gates, because i'm not old enough for hell.

i'm not ready for eternity.

we're close, but the connection hits deeper with everyone else.

these pills will show you the door just like they show me the road between forever and nowhere.
hold on, we're there now.
we reached our destination.

welcome to bedlam. please drive carefully.

"would you like to hear something strange?"

my heart's buzzing on this high from you.
or maybe i'm just in love with the idea of adoring someone other than myself.
i try to calm these shakes under my skin but my head won't let me.
douse these flames and put me out.
put this off until we're older/wiser/prettier.
or none of the above.

and she lets herself get so close she can almost touch it.
but it turns to dust beneath her fingertips.
like everything. slipping. the record's skipping revealing the truth.
lip synching along to the rhythm of l-l-life.

everybody scream, do you know what i mean?

who will catch me when i fall, fall, fall?
it's inevitable.

she's not wearing this choker literally, just for the attention.
did i forget to mention?
blink and you've missed it.
kiss me back to life.

your lips are cold on mine.

this is your wake up call

mornin' sunshine.
actually, it's pretty much evenin'.
fuck that.

i have a love/hate relationships with the sun.
it blinds me when i wake up, but keeps me warm when you're not around.
so it can't be all bad.
can it?

i've developed the realisation that i have no talent. in anything. at all.

i can't sing, or play an instrument well.
i can't act, or even be myself.
i can't write, these words are just a wannabe's way of expressing all they could never be.

all i'm good at is procrastinating and underacheiving.
oh, and drinking myself into a shallow grave of my own doubt.

fan-bloody-tastic.

drinkuplastcall.

current occupation: selling fire in hell

your love would be hell, but it's just not hot enough, baby.

some people are lions, some are cats.
i'm the bullet, blasting a hole into all of your five senses.
shoot this into your veins and feel the burn.
you can't teach this before you've learnt it.
you can't break the rules until you know what they are.
how far can this bend, bend, bend until it snaps in half?

will this provoke the kids or revoke the privillage?

i wrote a fairy-tale of L.O.V.E.
it begins with "once upon a time..."
and ends in "... happily ever after"
because truth won't sell this line.

that gold is untouchable, and that kid is unlovable.
that golden kid is unbelieveable.
{all i believe is the lie}
i'm stuck between conspiracy theories and cold hard reality.
the fence digs into my legs, forcing me to jump to one side.
but i just can't decide.

we're gonna make your hearts explode with everything you'd never known.
that's a promise she kissed onto your lips.
the fuck-me-red lipstick will leave it's mark.
just like she will.

i'm mediocre, but cut deeper.

these eyes are wide closed, but you look better this way.

if/or/and

IF i knew what this was, i'd document it. maybe even scratching it into the margin of the oxford english dictionary, just to prove that it was real.

OR i'd sit next to it and smile, just for a while, because this is just my style.

AND god knows i like it like that.

"you'll get the message by the time i'm through"

i'm anonymously infamous.
i take in chances and pills like air.
i never said "goodbye", because i couldn't see the "good" is waving you off.
one day i'll break through the clouds of my self-doubt and take on the world.
dominate me and i'll dominate them.
kiss on the lips and friction on the hips.
i'm not a poet, just a dramatist, obsessed with my own novel of life.
discarding people like pages.
these letters are like a connection between me and everything else.
it's hard to play myself.
today was long, long, long, and it's getting longer.
it's raining again, which isn't surprising.
i want to dance in your tears and swim through your fears.
just to prove i'm still here.

a farewell to arms

the days pass faster and faster, screaming past me in a blur of smiles and regrets.

"i'm late for a very important date"

i feel like i'm constantly checking my watch.
it's better than checking my back.

it's not that i don't love people. i do.
i just don't like them.
especially myself.
there's no one else to blame.

i don't believe in god, but if i did, he would definately be ernest hemingway.
or ben and jerry's phish food ice-cream.

i'll disappear in the click of your flash.

everything in between

"this isn't a bruise from falling for you"
at least, not last time i checked.

i never was perfect at mastering these imperfections.
you can't forgive me because i can't apologise.
not to eyes that can see into my soul and guess my fears and read these tears.
will you cry at my wake and dance on my grave?

i was meant to say something show-stopping here.

sorry.

promise shines through breaks in our facade

i people watch.
they fascinate me. scurrying like ants about their business.
do we realise that none of this realise matters?
or maybe everything really matters.
foreheads creased in frowns and failures.
i alliterate to allocate meaning to the meaningless.

maybe everyone is a one trick p(h)ony.
it wouldn't surprise me.
plastic laughter ringing through stucco splattered sidewalks grates against my eardrums.
pewter lights shine in small doorways and spreads darkly.

but still we smile and fight and kiss and cry.
to prove that ultimately we love being alive.

loveetc.

i think i love you: close brackets

the lights go out in your eyes and we realise for the first time that this isn't it.
i tried to make this pretty unbelieveable because you're pretty and unforeseeable.
do you know what it is yet?
you're hot of the rails, baby boy. lights go down behind cities and rainy day kids.
pins and needles echo under my skin, cause me to laugh out loud in the hilarity of our situation.

none of this is real, didn't you know?

right after i figured myself out, i forgot it.

can you title me?

i was gone, and now i'm back.
i choked on my own lies and paid for it in so much more than metal and paper.
writing this tragedy is a drug and i'm hooked.
i have the starring role and this is my best performance.
suddenly words just aren't enough.
i've always been poetic, but now it's just pathetic how much i wish i were you, or her, or them.
this is so much more than right and wrong. this is so much more than me and you.
this is forever.
this is something like reality.

i'll write your name on a bullet so you're the last thing that goes through my head.

i've seen all the overcast kids and learnt from the best of the worst, sugar take back your taste, because it's to much.
we're hot of the rails and i'm started to fail to see the lines between this and never.
i've smothered childhood dreams for the last time so for the first time, i'm taking a stand against myself.
i need to change the wrong's into rights, but it's the wrongs that convince me i'm still alive.

this isn't as pretty as you are.

truelove.

a problematic solution to a simplified equation

and suddenly my whole life is spread out in front of me, bare bones blushing.
only how can i choose the right path when my eyesight is blurred by the battle between my head and my heart?
i don't trust myself enough to choose. this decision could make or break me.
i'd rather make or break you.
or at least feel the comfort of the spark of your lips as they send an electric shock down each vertebrae.

love etc.

i whisper to the dark

and we'll run past city lights
and burn down something beautiful
just to feel alive.

this face doesn't fit these lines.

this isn't old love, it's vintage.

consolations and constellations

this is a hoax at most.
my head spins and i realise i've sold my soul for a dime.
ATMs spit out monopoly money.
dancers pirouette on broken toes and shattered dreams.

my (ir)regular heartbeat reminds me i'm more than just smoke and mirrors.
that the imagery was only imagined for the time being.

i hope to find myself in your words.
because i lost myself in mine.

consequences

my head feels like a fantasy.
the lines between right and wrong are blurred delicately round the edges.
my actions have a time delay.

landscapes blur and move slower than i do.

maybe this wasn't the best decision i ever made.

consistantly inconsistant

peaceandfuckinglovekids

sorry, baby, but that just ain't my scene

sometimes i think my life is such an intricate tangle of lies, even i'm beginning to forget who i am.
i lose myself in words that i can't even remember uttering.
a vicious cycle. a simple problem.

i heard about a new club opening in the big newyorknewyork. angels and kings i think it's called.
hopefully it'll play something worth listening to.
music that gets your heart racing until you've lost yourself in a blur of has-beens and maybes. there's not enough places like that.
i want a song i can lose my mind to.
dancing amongst people with heavy pockets and empty souls.
everything revolves round silver and gold.

"this town ain't big enough for the two of us" they said

the news is overflowing with tragedies. papers frantic for whichever headline is worse.
surely the world is peppered with some, dare i say it, good news as well.
something worth celebrating must be happening to someone somewhere.

let's hear about that too.

there doesn't just have to be mourning at a funeral.

i wish i was a star trek nerd

my face is made up, yours is an autobiography.
two hours sleep last night. that was an improvement on all of last week.

i want to decorate my skin.
maybe if i can force the outside into something beautiful, the inside will follow.

have you ever idolised someone?
put them on that solid gold pedestal and held them up so everyone could see who you wanted to grow up to be?
i haven't. i wish i would.

sometimes i feel like i'm running through a forest with my eyes shut.
i can feel the freedom, and the ground under my feet, but one day i'm going to run smack into a tree.
and it'll hurt like a bitch.

so far i've only hit branches.

live long and prosper, kids.

this is your encore

la la la.
i love the feeling of the tip of my tongue against the roof of my mouth... i love feeling the tip of your tongue against the roof of my mouth more.

have you ever met someone that means more to you that you mean to yourself?
someone that you'd jump off the ends of the earth for... but that you know in your heart of hearts would never do the same for you?

it's moments like this that make my head a little crazy.

livethefuckinglegend.

dance between the raindrops in a downpour

sit with me under the sta(i)r(e)s looking up at the stars.
annotate these immitations.

today is a good day.
not quite any bird/love song, but close enough to breathe it in.

people who say sunshine brings happiness have obviously never danced in the rain.

dance with me?

i'm writing you a list of all the things you weren't

"now hold onto me pretty baby."
i should be out dancing along to stories of other peoples youth... but i tripped over my own stupidity, and hit the ground too fast for me to blink.
ouch.
dancing isn't limp friendly.
so here i am. spilling out my head to the keyboard and absorbing the rhythm of other peoples guitars over my speakers.
the fun just never stops.
or maybe it never started.

my floor is littered with extracts of my thoughts.
pages ripped from notebooks that i couldn't understand, but i don't have the heart to throw away.
sentimentality will be my downfall, when i realise i can't let go.
especially the whispers and photos.

these diary entries are filled with nothing but incoherant mumblings of a trainwreck.
maybe one day someone will understand how my mind works.
i pity them.

i'd never want to get that close to myself.

there's something about...

it's morning. actually, it's felt like morning all night.
i love sleep - it just doesn't love me back.
close your eyes and hope for the best.
but my head won't shut off. i can't shut down.

i isolate myself. and the more i do it, the more isolated i feel. until it's just me and my head.
if that makes sense, you're a goddamned genius.
i don't understand myself.

i don't dare let any one get close enough to know me.
because then they can judge me. or worry about me.
or pressurize me.
because God knows that i'm so pressured my head is threatening to implode with every new thought and word.
with every recent sigh and smile and laugh.
i can see the release, i just can't feel it.
being down is my comfort blanket.
it's a way for me to know that i'm safe in my own head.
maybe. maybe not.
maybe that's the warzone that I've been trying to avoid.

misery has never been so pretty, baby boy.

switchoffshutdownletgo