Conch

Pt. 1
No one is around
sad that it rings
true,
but when no one is around
everything seems
perfect.


Home:
No body born here
wants to crawl
back and die
here.


The End:
Memories slip out
of the open door...
fade away?
dissapear.

My response:
Memories slip out of the door
-and for what?
Leaving for your hearts desire? Slip out of my grasp
tomorrow I leave the coast.
Hope to see you soon.

Pleas (AND THANK YOU)

Don't wreck it! Such a tragic ending for your
storybook life.

Epilogue:

Like, I'm just trying to write
with all these nameless whispers that fall out,
of your lips to my ears
I just push them aside,
we're due on the coast in a moments' time
grace-
can still be found under that smile! and every time you raise
your glass, I feel you getting colder.

Break-Beat Science

It's not that I don't like you.

It's that as time has gone on, I've come to hate you. Sorry princess, but that's the way it goes.

You can insult me all you want, with petty little insults that are so so so trivial. I'll still sleep sound.

But truth be told your nagging incessant striving to assert your self-importance wears thin, and hurts my head. It makes me oxygen deprived, or at least feel the effects of it.

I get it. You're like important, or at least you lie to yourself enough to think and believe it.

Get over yourself. Stop being such a bleeding heart, trying to make yourself a champion for various causes. Your hypocrisy washes away any sort of positive effect you hope to achieve. Stay out of my fucking business as well. I don't care for your opinion, and if I did i'd ask you for it. But don't hold your breath.

It's strange how someone can get so full of themselves and attempt to tip the scales in their favor by hurling ignorant criticisms and barbs towards you. It's comforting however, to take all those insults in stride and not let it affect you in any way, because you know, that at the end of the day when the sun sets and your eyelids close, and the smile creeps across your lips that...

you're better then that.


It's a shame we can't be friends.

But actually no, it's not a shame because you've shown me nothing but the ability to stay consistent... consistently unworthy of friend material.

From your attitude, to the way you portray yourself, to your personality, to the bleeding-heart sanctimonious belief you have in yourself..

I hope you choke on your inflated sense of worth and self-righteousness.

You're nothing special, and as long as you live the way you do, you';ll never be special.

I'll be content in my life and my happiness, knowing that the amount of detractors I have is severely outnumbered by the amount of people who enjoy my company and sharing the bond of friendship with me.

Better cross your fingers and say your prayers, but lets be honest, no amount of well-wishing is ever going to make you a decent person.

Restrd/ReMSTRD

to all the women I've never loved. to all your empty rooms/hearts

Erasure of the tape, wiping out
the cassette scarred tracklines masquerading
as your veins in a wine-stainedbrokenglass dance
party. Claw through pulsating coffin-envelopes
to remember

MAKE NO MISTAKES!

As you project yourself into a disemboweled
fantasy of youth and splendor and
mouth-gaping aspirations of completion
and

FULFILLMENT! OH, sweet yet bitter fulfillment, collecting on my tongue, capsules of ineptitude and shame. Sweet, sweet shame.

installment plans, replacement parts, and rebuffed charades
to catch the twinkle in your lover(s) eye(s) to
chart and recollect fleeting touches
that once chilled your spine, instead now
sleeping in the bitter wasteland
you've created for your self, for your
false sense of affirming your individuality
and independence
have left you
bloated
washed up
dry
and alone.

(you had your chance, but you love yourself
you loved the mirror, you loved the attention
you love your libido and faux-intellect,
drown yourself.)