Something More

I don't know, man
Sometimes I forget
Forget that this world is more than me
That there's me and there's you and there's friends
That there's family
Cause I always think
Think that you, my friends, and my family
That you're not a part of me
It's so easy to lose it all
And when that happens, all that's left


All that's left..

All that's left...

...is Me.


So you see I get lost in Me.
My head gets ingested, grows infested
Grows grotesque
Grows bigger
But there's less, only more mess
No time for others, no time for love,
No time for me.

Now I know it's contradictory
When I say there's no time
Time for me.
Listen
I'm saying I'm not taking time
For me.
Time to see the good, accept the bad
To love me.

Cause when I do
I'll make the time for friends and family
For you.
When the confusion subsides and rides
Off towards the sunset
And this infestation manifests
Into...something more
Something more...like me.
Something less...like Me.

More like you
More like love

These Words

Original Post: 11/20/08 at 11:40AM (Written on the train ride to the airport before leaving Japan)

Ever since that day
I've thought about you endlessly
Wishing I could press my hand
On the arm of your jacket

I never wanted to love you
But I couldn't stop myself
From wanting you here and now
To walk crowded streets with

These words that I tell you
Are not what I want to mean
I get frustrated and annoyed
When the right ones are ahead of me

What I mean to say...
Is that I wish you were him
That I didn't love and resent you
For reminding me of him

Free Writing - Cookin' Time

I thought for a long time that perhaps, it would finally come to this. And-and I've mulled it over, alright? I cooked it with all the fixins and I was gonna let it blow up in your face. But then I let it cool until all the oil began to congeal. And now - now you've made me heat it up all over again! And you know what, that ain't right! Cause I got rights! I got rights to a life! I got rights to say good night and to hell with you. (beat) Cause even though I mulled this over, I'm not prepared. I'm never prepared. I try, believe me - oh, I try to the best I can. But you just muck it up. Like a kid who just..mucks it up. A kid. You're a kid. (beat) What am I saying? I think I'm saying you're immature, you need a time out, and get the hell out of my kitchen because what I'm making next isn't for you!

Change is Hard

"You shouldn’t change because someone wants you to. You should only change because that person makes you want to."

From the Camera's Angle: A Man's Apple

A man in a bowler hat and no face stands on a cliff with a green apple in his right hand and a pocket knife in his left. It is a Swiss Army Knife. He stands facing away from the precipice with his head tilted slightly up. He'd be looking up if he had eyes.

We begin to focus on the green apple, taking note of its indentations. Dark spots scatter themselves, most of them near the stem. It looks as if the man may have been pressing his fingers there. The dark spots look soft but we can't really tell. We would continue to characterize this apple more but it's moving now, distracting us. The man is rolling the apple in his hands expertly - as if he's done this many times before. He spins it slowly and drops his hand. The apple falls through the air for a split second. The man grabs the top of the stem and the apple continues spinning, its momentum twisting it. The stem is about to break. And it does. The apple flies through the air again.

And this is where the knife comes in. It punctures the apple from the top. The blade is dull so the apple barely holds on.Our focus remains on the apple and the knife. And the finger of the no-face man creeping down the exposed blade. He presses down on it. It requires a great deal of pressure but he manages to prick himself. The finger winces and retracts out of instinct, but it manages to correct itself in mid-movement. The finger reaches towards the apple. It presses down on the green skin. Lightly. Just enough to leave a crimson fingerprint.

A quick cut occurs now. Like in a movie or TV show. We've switched from being literally inches from the apple, the blade, and the finger to now looking 20 feet away from the man. We are behind him and slightly to his left. His left arm is diagonal, probably from the cutting motion of the pocket knife. We look down and realize we're not standing on anything. The man is facing away from the cliff and we're behind him. This means we're not standing on anything. It's a cartoon: the moment you notice the danger you're in, the moment that danger occurs. We fall and we grasp at nothing. The man waves with his right hand. He never looks back. Our focus moves quickly as we plummet. The precipice grows smaller, the blue ocean more encompassing. That man. Did he really not have a face?

Halfway

Original Post: 6/20/08 at 11:41 PM

I met a girl in Japan
Who let me hold her hand
We met every other day
Down by the subway train

One day I could not go
As I looked at my globe of snow
I saw her waiting by the track
Wondering if she should go back

After work, I ran to the station
Having no real destination
Wind whipped through the doors
My brown shoes slapping the floor

I stumbled onto the street
Looking at the lights before me
My hand reached up to the neon blue
I wonder if she saw it too

From the crowd, I stood
As a gentle voice cooed:

"Slipping through the doors of the train
On a one-way ticket going anywhere
I leave a note on your windowpane
Asking you to meet me halfway there"