ease

the rain began
so i walked
looking back
i wonder why
looking forward
i understand
how do you explain
a sincere lie?
you believe to be on a throne
while you believe i am on a mountain
when in reality
we're both in chairs
how did i see redemption
in those eyes?
it was pure,
but purity can be filtered
through hazy eyes
of misinterpreted want and belief
"THIS IS TRUE THIS IS TRUE I CAN FEEL IT"
is a bold statement
to be said when filled with false feelings
i was intoxicated with the concept of sobriety
holding hands was always euphoric
or so it seemed,
on a winter evening.
my hands were probably just cold.
you are freewheelin'
a constant, a standard, the ideal.
i am revisited
the electric, the unaccepted, the remembered.
this isn't to say we didn't reach the top of the ferris wheel
this is only to say
we never arrived at the right carnival.
so again,
i say farewell to items i usually never would have said hello to.
thanks for all the new garbage filling up my can
i'll make a new box for your pretty pictures and lock it with another rusty lock
i'll see it in a year or so
and remember why i locked it away.
to remember that once my false purity was honest,
and not always a fabricated ransom note.
you sang some songs before me
so i won't sing them now
i sang you some new songs,
and i won't sing them again.
i will close my passengers door to you now.
because you're not in my hot air balloon anymore,
you climbed in so willing,
and jumped out even easier.
i will change your channel to the evening news
to be soothed by the sounds of other sadness and destruction
thanks for your damage, though!
(i didn't want you to think i wouldn't credit you)
I should have known you signed the paper in pencil not blood,
an erasable promise,
is much easier to make.
looking through a telescope makes me realize you aren't a star at all,
you're just a carefully crafted satellite,
doing the work of the general public.
well done you tax dollar monster,
you've outdone yourself
please continue to miscalculate words and phrases
and quote the words you never knew.
happy ending of the classics,
happy beginning,
happy anniversary,
happy ending,
it all came so quick!
yet the repercussions resonate so heavily in me currently,
while you go on and play with the poison i died from.
enjoy the cheese in the mouse trap,
i hear it works better with peanut butter.
i am now underwater
opening my eyes
and breathing in.
this is harder,
i am choking,
but at least i'm choking on substance,
not smog.

Thoughts On Love at 4:21 in the morning.

I still love you,
probably more than ever.
I don't think you know, though.
That's ok.
I like this game.
It's new again.
It's a process of rebirth and self discovery,
all the while I have a crush like a schoolboy,
but love like a human.
Clocks won't be able to tell how long I'll wait for you
to love me again,
I'll wait for the sun to burn out,
and if you still close the door,
I'll wait some more.
I regret erasing
notes to you
that were cliche,
and lacked depth,
because in reality
they were nothing but truth.
Here is some truth:
My heart beats faster when I think of you,
I stutter when I'm with you,
I miss you when I'm without you,
My skin gets goosebumps at even an accidental touch,
I understand jokes I didn't now,
I'll watch a horrible movie and actually love it for you now,
I wish I didn't change this late,
I hope it's not too late,
I can still see,
that you too love me,
when we mistakenly lock eyes,
but intentionally stay.
I am yours.

now be mine,
(OH HOW FREEING IT IS TO SPEAK IN TRUTH FILLED CLICHES)
(THE SIMPLEST THINGS MEAN THE MOST COMPLEX THOUGHTS)
like;

I am absolutely in love with you.
(that is a truth)

a question

why does the mirror have to look right for you to give me a picture?

.retteL A

.uoy evol I taht wonk esaelp tub ,siht ees t'now lybaborp uoY
.uoy evol t'ndid I fi yrt t'ndluow I
.gniyrt yllaer ,yllaer m'I dnA
.evah reve I naht eroM
.uoy truh t'now I
.hcum os uoy evol I

(you are) everywhere

van morrison sings me a song
on a pre-made playlist
semi predictable mixes
are sometimes all i can offer
hoping their words
can express my thoughts
i meant all the words they sang you
too many
(items
tastes
songs
movies
etc.)
remind me of you
they're everywhere
so instead of blocking and hiding
i embrace a bittersweet feeling
in hopes to reinstate
the recently lost rush
of a late night phone call
or an early good morning text
you're present through song
and candid photo's
but
my hand is still cold
when i walk to my car alone

(Je peux seulement prier votre coeur rembobinera au mien.)

i feel you in the air
not a feeling easy to dismiss
even if i wanted to.

Some Newer Thoughts.

Here are some 2 am thoughts.

I think a good portion of life is spent on the process of waiting. I realized this in the passed few weeks. I have to wake up early to go to a bus stop to wait for a bus. I then wait to arrive to the city. Then I wait for the shuttle to grand central. Then I wait for the doors to open on the train. Then I wait for the next train. Then I wait for my class to start. Then I wait for my class to end. Then I wait for my day to end. Then I wait for sleep. We're mostly always waiting to be done with something. Very rarely are we not. So recently I've tried not waiting.

A few months ago, I was in Boston visiting some friends. We were walking around a park on a very nice Autumn day, discussing past parties and the new Jay-Z album among other things. We came across a group of kids, probably 1st or 2nd grade, doing something beautiful. They were fitting the ideal stereotype of kids playing in a park. They were literally just running around in circles and laughing so loud and pure. They had no apparent task. They weren't even playing tag. They were completely in the moment of nothing, and embracing that nothing, that no goal, to something so fulfilling. We sat and watched them for a few minutes laughing and awing and then went to go get some overpriced ice cream. As we were eating said dessert in this hip, quaint little place, we were discussing what we had just seen. We realized that what we saw, was something so rare, a truly innocent moment. I kid you not, we started tearing up. This was also due to the fact that there was quite the fitting music of Alexi Murdoch playing along in the background to tug at our hearts a little more. The reason this saddened us so, is because when are we going to ever have another purely pointless, innocent moment? Seemingly never. As adults, almost everything we do has a purpose or goal or definitive end.

Recently I got a bit of cabin fever and decided on trying an experiment. I blacked out my windows with newspaper for some light projection thing that did turn out pretty cool, but I think that fact that Sufjan Steven's "The BQE" was playing through my speakers really helped that. But I was laying on my floor in this pitch black room, doing absolutely nothing. I was achieving nothing, and had no plan other than "lay on floor." This was, in no way, shape or form, a beautiful moment.

So how can we decipher the difference between a moment of nothingness that is in fact meaningful, and a moment of nothingness that is mainly just boring?

The answer is obvious. One feels special and one feels boring.

The real question, is how do we live a moment that has no goal or purpose, but gives that moment in our lives purpose?

i don't know the answer. I'm trying to figure that out.

One time I was feeling like I wanted to feel spontaneous and I went out driving to go hiking. I couldn't find the entrance to the trail I was looking for, so I just pulled over on the side of the road and started going up the side of a mountain. (That sounds a lot more extreme than the event actually was.) I got lost and dropped my phone in a creek and at one point was stuck on a cliff and the only thing I could think to do was mobile upload a picture of me being stuck on a cliff. It was actually rather exciting because I had to do a lot of jumping and sliding to get down and it was pretty dangerous and I was alone so I felt sexy in an Indiana Jones type way. This day is a remarkably memorable day for me. The thing about it is, nothing happened really. I never found the trail, I didn't go that high, and where I was climbing, although steep and kind of annoying, was not that scenic or rewarding. So why do I remember this pointless adventure? I guess because I was running in a circle and not playing tag.

This most recent summer I was in my friends yard and we were spinning in circles and listening to jazz and staring at the stars and running around. I will never forget this night and how hard we were all laughing at mostly nothing. I think this was another pointless, without a goal moment that was pure and perfect. No one was it. No one was tagging. We were just running, in each others company.

We were complimenting existence by giving our plans and aspirations and goals a little break. Everything needs rest, or else it becomes exhausted. I think that's part of the problem. We exhaust our plans and routines.

But we can't just sit and wait for these moments, because that brings us back to the problem of all the time wasted on waiting.

So what am I suggesting we do? I'm not suggesting anything, calm down, I have no answers. I'm just a guy who waits for subways a lot and sometimes spins around and slides down rocks.

I think next time you're waiting you should ask someone else who's waiting a question. Something specific, but that has mass appeal. Like: "Would you rather have breakfast, lunch, or dinner with your favorite celebrity?" If I was asked this I would be shocked and pleased at the breaking of the waiting and an introduction into a moment that has no direction whatsoever. (I would answer this question by saying, Definitely lunch, because it's more laid back and can extend into the night which could lead to a further adventure.)

I suppose that's about what I'm thinking at the moment.

I could continue this for a long time if I was to begin to talk about health care, or the feeling of re-instated true love, or how "Visiter" by The Dodo's is just about the greatest album ever. But I won't.

We should play tag less, and just run around more. We'll laugh more, and no one will be annoyed about being it.

Reality is Fiction is Reality.

(am i awake?)
I've grown tired of crying in bank parking lots
over assumed promises
of what's to come
in an attempt to become more real
by becoming fictional
I sporadically chase a sunset,
(orangepinkwhitebluered)
to an appropriate soundtrack
at a proper volume.
I watch it go out of sight,
never finding a cinematic hill
to stand introspectively and gaze upon
instead,
blank, shapeless clouds take up the sky
as I drive through a backwoods of sorts
(still an appropriate soundtrack)
I attempt now to get lost,
an effort in which I'll try to be found
but instead,
I end up exactly where I know.
I can't get lost,
I know exactly where I am,
because I am real,
not fiction.
I walk up a familiar field,
one where I was once fictional,
where my scripted me found the answer,
I still see a hint of the sunset,
being over powered by the faceless clouds
I walk across muddy waters
only to look back
at sedans and power lines.
I run up a typewritten moss covered rock,
only to fall and rip my jacket,
my real jacket.
I climb a tree, only to see nothing
worth taking a picture of.
I lust to be fiction.
I lust to have man made situations of brokenness
and self discovery.
They all tell me
"You just want your life to be a movie"
So I meet my standard
with these forced situations,
and I gain nothing
but a ripped jacket.
I am sick of an implied want for silence,
through static filled reception.
When will my character be spoken to?
I have no addictions,
but I have the consequences.
I have perfectly constructed scenes,
but life interrupts the necessary clarity,
the film is up,
but my camera still rolls,
in hopes for a resolution,
that has yet to be seen.