the after thought.

despite what happened a day before 

you're going to smile, 

because you woke up with your heart still beating. 

time is not worth this sadness. 

what's the point of regret if we can't turn around and make it better?

rain pounding 

my thoughts flow down into the streets. 

exploring the avenues, 

grazing the sidewalks. 

It just keeps going, and I must as well. 

the bullet.

isn't real love 

not questioning why? 

and where are the cribs?

the ones I lay my worries in.

where they fall into a deep sleep. 

dreaming about their past. 

and the non-existent future. 

isn't this real fighting? 

White Air.

Whenever I feel like my life is ending, 

I know something new and exciting is about to begin. 

Winter is the cure, I need no escape. 

the disaster of want.

I used to think complicated things would make me happy. 

Expensive things. 

Not realizing that everything beautiful, everything happy has 

no price at all. 

I still crave the buzz of happiness. 

But asking for something priceless still causes the same 

amount of pain. 

Everything Is. (after)

There’s a road inside my head 

And every thing's the same 

Nothings bound to change 

But the wheels spin inconsistently 

And my thoughts are chained to freedom 

I’m going to fight inside the darkness 

And surrender to the light. 

The clouds are fire hanging over us, 

Lets end this all tonight. 

Deliver me to the mountains; 

To the highest point you can see. 

I’m not all that I am

And I need the wind to push me. 

Everything is the after, 

I'm just a ghost in the before. 

Feeling a little bit more alive every time 

I get closer to the door. 

Leave me on the airplane. 

I fell asleep during the descent. 

The blue is everything I breathe, 

How many more miles until I know, 

that home is inside me? 

far from home. (midway)

I don't care how many pretty places I've seen,
nothing feels like home,
and I've seemed to have convinced myself that home is in your arms.
Even though your arms are still ways away from me.

Rejoice. (before)

everything still looks like fog. 

everything is foreign, 

so why should different countries make any difference?

why is something so easy so hard? 

the winter remains the winter. 

our laughs are accompanied by visible air. 

(no breath comes out when you're crying.) 

the memories I no longer remember.

under the stars 

you feel more like a Ghost

and I feel more like Death. 

the clouds still move 

and the day still creeps upon us. 

I wish midnight lasted forever 

just one day a year. 

so I could be thankful for all the days filled with nothing. 

questions before collapse.

this lollipop feels like a planet in my mouth

and I'm still worried about what you think. 

midnight turns into sunrise, 

and just this once

I'm still awake. 

Rekindling memories of the unspoken feeling

of being lost. 

But now everything hangs on a string. 

old friends or comfort zones? 

the clock keeps moving, but time tells me nothing. 

nothing but the truth under a couple of lies.

this is a beautiful mess. 

we're choosing to ignore. 

but that's okay. 

because this will end. 

because it all must end. 

time is never on our side. 

rising.

if winter is such a disease 

then why do I treat it as a gift?

the cold isn't even that cold. 

my head is stirring. 

its as if everything was clear, 

but I attempt to make it unclear. 

why must I be fed with this disaster?

trees and storms.

I can't be free
unless i'm flying in an airplane, engulfed in the clouds.
I can't be free
unless i'm driving across open roads, engulfed in the wind.

there's so much safety in going without a destination.

to escape without leaving.

somehow I always knew without knowing. 

somehow I'm still living without 

breathing. 

and somewhere inside me knows it will end well. 

i see the sunlight and sand, 

i feel the smile lines on my face. 

-and this will all be worth it. 

the deepest repeat.

everything collapses and nothing makes sense. 

(but it never actually made sense to begin with.) 

I can't decide on which bridge to build. 

I dream about some stolen genius. 

Just because I can't create. 

I can't create without complain. 

I see the world around me as just a 

band aid. 

A useless reminder. 

And my dreams are the scabs that lie underneath.

Forgotten but eroded on my skin.

If I can't remember being comfortable, 

how will I ever be comfortable again? 

Across the Hemisphere & What Brought Us Here.

Here we go-
dissapearing and growing up.
Only to come back to the same place.
What we felt then will be a ghost that
lingers over our memories.
We forgot what it felt like, be we haven't forgotten why it was there.

And the cure failed.
Sleeping in jeans, chasing the sunrise.
Letting the day set in my stomache.
I didn't know how to keep living, but you kept me breathing.
Hanging on to every word, every useless piece of information.
And its all gone now.

We're going to change, and we won't even feel it.
We're going to love everything and we won't even know it.
We're going to smile with our eyes, and learn about the rest of our lives.

Long live these hopeless memories, these scarred realizations.
The madness of our youth brings us to the responsibilites of our adulthood.
And time has been laughing in our faces, all the while long.

refuse to make sense.

i might say that this is dead. 

but this isn't even about you anymore. 

hold shy of the cold 

and the leaves infest the ground. 

everything feels like summer without the things I hate the most. 

on the surface.

Praying in the cemetary 

while the light floods in: 

Fog errupting in our face. 

A gasp of 'i wish you were here.' 

(even if I'm not quite sure who you are). 

Or maybe not. 

maybe in one moment i'm okay with indulging in the moment-

Alone. 

avoiding the conversation outlet that's supposed to keep us together.

Now lets be honest. 

I used to live through the pictures. Wishing I was a lost one. 

In a sea of smoke and cheap alchohol. (weights for the body.) 

but everything seemed so perfectly wrong. No one knew if they were having

a good time, but they were smiling. (everything was fake it just happened to look real.) 

Climbing trees 

while the doubters shout from below: 

Sun is settled in a cloud. 

The only air that exsist is the one escaping my mouth. 

(desperate attempts to breath). 

Or maybe not. 

maybe in one moment i'm okay with drowning in the sky- 

Alone. 

avoiding the complication outlet thats supposed to tear us apart. 

Now lets tell lies. 

The blood knows how to escape my body when I need it the most. Tying loose ends, 

creating the cycle of dissapointment. And I know how it's going to end. (i'm not looking but I can see.) but everything is right when it's wrong. And everything is terrible, but we have no idea why we're smiling. (everything is real we just want it to be fake.)

I don't know why I thought that living my truth while taking part of your lie might be an easy thing.

dull & delusional.

the people look like birds from the sky line. 

i like these lines so much better when they don't come from my mind. 

somedays I just want to be a shadow. 

there are some things you will not be able to understand. because i don't understand myself.

everything is perfect because of hope. without it we fall apart. 

lets just fall apart one night. 

never said.

They help untangle the animal 

thats been freed from the hunter's grasp...

The fantasy in which I've been living in in my head, 

has pulled itself to an abrupt halt. 

I loose my small sense of sanity and comfort 

along the way. 

But while others see this as an opportunity to 

bring life to an end, 

I only see more reason to keep on living. 

My curiosity keeps me alive. 

And I have nowhere to go, but I keep going. 

beneath the leaves.

Underneath the dirt 

and dust 

are the tree-lined streets. 

And the tree-lined streets

are the city streets. 

The ones we've all attempted 

to escape, just because of the inhabitants

that have done us wrong. 

The winter brought me back, 

and the first cold day 

has yet to begin. 

But the memories of 

winter flooded my senses. 

I can't explain. 

But the desire has spun its last round in my memory. 

The sand, the fog, it all taste like the loneliness of nothing.

the song of a million septembers that have yet to come.

my heart is ringing, 

and my blood is crawling with anticipation. 

this is the start. 

this is the beginning of a voice 

that will no longer be denied. 

And all because: 

I closed my eyes, and let myself know I could. 

And it's the most powerful assurance 

I've ever felt. 

machine.

The buildings are a cage. 

I'm not sure how to stop this, 

I don't know if I ever will. 

(The cage is all in my head.)

grave digging.

atop stairways. 

wants and 'supposed-to-be's'. 

This was never nothing, 

and it was hardly ever anything. 

The shame of not being able to get into 

anyones head, is that it forces you to be 

in an honest place. 

I'm not sure if we were ever ready to do that. 

We've just skirted around the place, 

looking at each other from the other side. 

And none of us stepped in. 

No one wanted to make the trip across. 

I apologize to the possibilities that I may 

have prevented from happening. 

Had I known that life was happening around me, 

I would said something, or made the first step. 

But isn't it useless, apologizing for situations that

you will never be able to go back and fix? 

So we forgive and let go. 

The hope takes its final position 

at the tip of my tongue and on

the edge of my heart.

What will happen next to change everything?

Or what will we not say that makes everything

stay the same? 

skin crawl in an empty hour.

I don't have a body.
I don't have a mind.
My soul went somewhere to hide.
But I need it back.
There is no sympathy.
It is no longer night, so the dark cannot protect
everything thats left.
It is not yet morning, so everything remains the way it
is without a hint of change.
Just the water filled clouds. Just the stranger on the street.
Chest-tightening fear claws at my lungs.
The air escapes me.
But all I can do is think.
All I can do is clutter the remains.

Morning has passed.
Everything makes sense.
And my body and mind have returned
shaken to their natural spots.

I Can Taste the Finish Line. (departure letter #2)

Salted air, 

and the ending of a summer that never quite started. 

We take refuge back into our shells 

of wool and fleece. 

One day this will be irrelevant. 

There are things I haven't seen, 

but some of them I don't need to see. 

A trail of adventures that fail to wander on to my path. 

Who knows what you'll say, 

but you're probably just fed-up anyway. 

So I'll busy myself taking action on a dream. 

I'll return bandaged back together one day.

repeat & breaking fall.

In the end these are still my decisions. 

These are still my needs. 

And everything that is supposed to happen will happen. 

I go in circles, but I keep falling back into the middle. 

The sun fades away into the moonlight.

They both disappear behind the clouds. 

I can taste the missing sunset, I feel the 

fog burn inside my lungs.

The breeze is my whisper. 

The ocean is my blood. 

The sand is my skin.

So I push to get back to a place I call home. 

a moment of silence for the fear that haunts me.

I will look down into the crease of my arm 

my veins will lack definition. 

A mass of bruise-colored skin floating above 

my invisible blood. 

Blue tape, white walls, and everything in between. 

The planned chaos. 

And the cries of help 

will float above like careless ghosts. 

I haunt my insides, and the life that surrounds me. 

Coffin-like posture. 

There is no confirmation, just imagination. 

And it's eating me alive. 

solutions.

I will hold on to everything in my heart, 

but let it all go with my hands. 

The sunrise is a drug. 

I am the symptoms. 

And all of this want is a dream. 

Living opposites,  

breakthrough moments. 

The summer ends before fall, 

so we have to the sun to look forward to again.

shaking with want.

Why did I leave? 

Did I have to come back? 

This place is no longer home. 

I've said all the things I've needed to say here. 

I've done all the things that I've needed to do here. 

But I guess it's just like that week in July. 

Push through and be aware of the good times. 

But I just want to faint and wash it all away. 

open up the sound.

If I made a grave for everything that hurt me,

I would buried them deep, deep into the soil. 

So they don't find us and hurt us again.

Today happens to be today,

so I'm stalling until tomorrow. 

But by then I'll be lost in a thousand yesterdays. 

5:06pm

When I come home, 

I'm at the bottom of the grave.

"it's summertime and at the moment I hate everything." 

Take me back. 

The fog fed me. 

the fog feeds the city. (two)

What is this
acceptance to being broken?
When being whole is the only
way to feel real.
I'm addicted to this sunlight.
Year-round perfection.
It's hard to bite your toungue and
go back to where you were born,
where you were raised,
where you were dissapointed,
where you fell in love.
Nothing is different, but everything is the same.
I want to stay in this place.
Closer to the sky.
The ocean becomes the blood running through my veins.
I'm not sinking here, just swimming.
But I'm going back.
Back to the straight-line, state-of-mind.
But I'll be dreaming, and I'll return.

the fog eats the city. (one)

I might watch you go by like a cloud,
fall apart to the sound of your voice.
Burn the memories that haunt the patterns of my brain.
This is nothing but everything at the same time.
Where are you when you're not in my thoughts?

this is what it looks like from the sky.

I wanted to stay away.
'welcome back, heart attack.'
but now I'm saddened by the goodbye
that won't be.
I can't tell if you care,
but it's the wondering that
has my stomach turned into knots.
I'm departing
from the Cemetary City
But I'll be back soon.

I may pretend to agree with what everyone says.

I don't want to feel spring, 

I don't want to feel winter, 

I don't want to feel fall. 

I just want to feel summer, 

all night long. 

even if you cared.

This pain, 

well it's going to be buried alive. 

I'm on the tightrope above self-destruction. 

But it's not actually that simple, that exaggerated. 

No it's the fear of dying subtly, the fear 

of losing the fire before it has been lit. 

The worse of self-destruction is the 

acceptance of pain. 

Letting pain drown in the blood 

that floods your veins. 

Poisoning your mind to make you think 

of nothing that feels an inch of your body with joy. 

-I'd much rather be happy. 

back into good old habits.

found in a good situations-

a normal pace of heart. 

progressive goals and

true believers in the spirit of summer. 

this is nowhere near over yet. 

left behind.

I'm going to let this excitement

boil in my veins. 

I'm going to escape, 

even if the sky follows me. 

the beginning future plans.

I'm going to change this. 

I'm going to turn it around. 

Where is the line between 

fairy-tales and pure lies? 

Imagination consumption. 

I haven't lost yet. 

I plan on an unexpected victory. 

(Thank you for giving me the sun, but I will 

continue to chase it.) 

past mourning.

Is my smile just a memory?
The minute you open your eyes you forget.
We never know where this can go,
or when it can go.
Just that it must go.

Looking up at a peach colored sky
we fear the fighter planes
and the loss of eachother.
Telling our brains to let go,
although our hands are still
chained together.

in the light. (after)

My mind is shaking, my heart is breaking, but everything is beautiful.
Hold me forward on a cliff.
I am the pause, I am the repeat.
Then life sings sweetly.
I'm no longer deaf to hear it.
My mind is shaking, my heart is breaking, but everything is beautiful.

the hunger. (before)

Going to be detached from the world for a while.
Hair-dye dripping from my forehead.
'A new you.'
Settling and convincing myself into distance.
I'm hoping not to miss this.
The walls that surround me are lit
with farewell.
The last time I left I was falling into pieces.
The pieces were pulled together on a hill.
Then dispersed again.
Packing the remains in a suitcase.
'I'll see you when I return.'

in passing.

I am annoyed at 

the single ounce of hope 

that lingers over my soul 

even though everything 

is plainly obvious: 

this will not be. 

Long Before. (departure letter #1)

The air has become so dank,
and so serious.
I’m not sure I can remain the pressure
of the city lights anymore.
Once what I felt were beautiful nightlights
are now heated spotlights.
I am desperate for an alternative,
a replacement, a substitute.
Anything.
I may never be sure why the things I love
decided to turn against me.
Why they decided to desert me,
leave me feeling empty and hopeless.
Maybe I never need to know.
But for now I need to escape.
For now I need another taste of another town.
I’ve defeated the fear- now all I want to do is fly.

conscious.

I have fallen in love with the rain. 

Maybe because of it's frequency, 

maybe because of it's gentle patter 

against my window sill. 

My eyes have been closing around 

the sunset. 

Once more, I am reunited with every new morning. 

Every different colored sunrise. 

Midnight morning-it all becomes a mess of days and weeks. 

The breeze shivers through my curtains. 

So hopeless, so comforting is

the soul of an empty summer. 

a name on lips.

I have to-need to- get out to you.

Press my feet against the wood floor. 

Wrist tightly around my dreams. 

An instant wave of accomplishment. 

Hardened heart underneath the trash can. 

Is this what we should call happiness? 

A breaking of worry, I'm only twirling in peace. 

The air of summer in everything you say, 

every smile I see. 

I have to-need to-get out to you. 

Journal Entry: 6/24/2009-2:31 AM

...I cried out 

tears of forgiveness for 

holding onto my wrongs. 

And the clouds flooded my heart. 

And the breeze took control of 

my mind. 

I was a peaceful light against the 

hysteria of darkness...

Journal Entry: 12/1/2008-2:24 AM

It's winter outside, but I feel nothing. 

Sleeping days off- 

I feel as if I'm cheating time. 

But bathing in blankets with 

my eyes closed is my only 

sense of grasping sanity. 

And then I wake up still dreaming. 

Coming to mind is problems I can't face 

and solutions that fade away before I can remember 

there presence. 

It's winter outside, but I feel nothing.

Journal Entry: 11/29/2008-10:46 PM

Just as we're all aware 

the search isn't over until 

there's nothing left to find 

Secrets will be told until there's 

nothing left to hide. 

We will love, 

even when our hearts have stopped beating. 

sleeping off the week in a day.

Confront my thief. 

Bleed out into the rain. 

Everything starts to look beautiful 

when it looks like it's falling apart. 

Now we keep going in circles. 

When are we going to step in and say 

words that will hold us together? 

(you can only keep me crazy if you 

can keep me forever.) 

curled up against the rocks.

I'm sitting in the rain 

with my heart on 

and a glass filled with ideas. 

Revisiting the mistakes 

reclaiming the shadows. 

Am I all that you want me to be? 

Do you want me at all?

twenty one and sixty.

There are some days 

when I choose to believe

that what makes me lost 

makes me beautiful. 

By habit, I never trust the mirror. 

By lying, I never trust myself. 

I've spoken to midnight for the 

past week or so. 

The promises the sunrise make me 

are wearing down in my mind. 

I woke up today, not remembering what day was yesterday. 

Though, no one here cares when your soul is to thin. 

Their only conscious of what they can see with their eyes. 

So everyone remains wondering why the beautiful are fading, 

but no one dare investigate. 

Let us drift into the sky, no one knew we were here anyway.

tonight in tomorrow.

I feel more like the rough draft 

rather than the finished product. 

but isn't that the joys of youth? 

we make thoughtless mistakes 

and then become breathless with 

saying sorry. 

all of my lies are scattered across my bed. 

just for a little while. 

until I can connect my own dots. 

atmosphere.

When did it become okay to embrace strangers,

but not okay to embrace the friends around you?

I haunt the ghosts in my head. 

The ones that tell me lies and doubt my decisions.

There is so much confusion- 

and then it becomes morning 

and everything is lost again. 

The sheets become cold and dead 

throwing your body to an alert state.

Air taste like home, your arms felt like home, the sun looks like home. 

Tell me when I can return.

thunder & lightning.

I'm looking for stability-I'm looking for consistency. 

but I can't sit still and I'm restless. 

they're all fading and I can't seem to figure out 

what has gone wrong. 

I'm tasting my mistakes, 

they taste sour and broken. 

When is sorry never enough? 

(I wanted to run away from it all, instead it's all running away from me.) 

waiting.

I am slipping on melting ice in the summertime. 

head filled with ache. 

I need a plan to keep me from myself. 

just let the good overcome the bad 

and breathe out without worries 

of consequence. 

the beam of light in a thunderstorm. 

can I trust you trusting me?

on (un)broken ground.

when will they stop 

excusing us as dreamers?

the tops are pulled down 

exposing us to the world. 

but we'll just keep on driving. 

remove the blame, keep the fame. 

we're not going to realize it has started 

until it's over and we're basking in the memories. 

one a.m.

I'm a tortoise and a show horse. 

just the perfect amount of insanity 

and reverence. 

running towards the wave, but hiding when i get there. 

fantasizing what it would be like to just once get 

bombarded with the ocean,

which leads to dancing in the womb of the water. 

(but crashing waves sound so peaceful from inside the shell.)