Delusional Dreamer

Untitled.

2009-07-25T23:20:00.001-04:00

I want to get inside your head. I want to walk down the corridors of memories, much too sad and much too many for one so young. I want to look through the star-dusted eyes that you do, a new perspective that's ages old. I want to hear the click clacking of my feet in your hallway, and admire the sculpted columns of wisdom like the yellowing pages of an aged text. I want to find the hows, whys, whens, and whos I think so often about. But, above the so many thing I want to learn from you, I want to get inside your head to bring you peace, somehow. To give you a silent sleep among the restless. I want to make you smile because I know you can't on your own.

Thou,

2009-06-02T23:01:00.000-04:00

I want to be ashes in the wind, the ones that guide you home when the cool autumn breeze blows your hair under the colored oak trees and you smile for no reason at all.

We swing life away.

2009-02-19T23:34:00.001-05:00

We are the generation of burn outs and fuck ups.
We are also the generation of raw, awe-inspiring talent.
We take your sense and paint it away.
We sing truth into microphones.
We speak through frayed pages and drying ink.
We keep both feet planted when all winds are blowing our way.
Do not fuck with us.

Swirl.

2009-02-17T20:09:00.005-05:00

This is the point where all the sadness you've ever felt fuses together.
This is the point where all the sympathy you've ever been given ties itself around your heart and squeezes until it explodes.
This the point where everything you've ever read zooms through your brain at impossible speeds.
This is the point where your whole life and your entire being become reality.
This is the point where every fight you fought, every dream, every thought that took you over break through the walls and rush through your soul.
This is the point where everything you ever felt, every belief you've ever held, everything that helped or hurt is questioned.
This is the point where every past action and every spoken word are put under the light.
This is the pinnacle, this is the brink.
Fall or fly.
Fall or fly?

Hmmm

2009-02-16T12:32:00.002-05:00

The Adventure.
A Gerbert.
Two am.
Pounding chest.
Breathless laughter.
Close friends.
Closer calls.
Everything is questionable.
And I fucking love it.

2009-02-07T21:02:00.002-05:00

My soul lies at the bottom of ink wells.
And at the tips of pens.
And on the paper.
I am nothing but words.
The scratches on ink and led are my home.
And no one will ever collect all of me.

Night Sky.

2009-02-05T23:32:00.002-05:00

The night is young.
And as the sky is painting it's beauty across the sky, I wonder who else is staring at the same sight right now.
And I really hope that they are truly, genuinely happy.
Because the world is beautiful when no one is looking.
And everyone deserves the smooth tranquility and safety of Mother Nature every once and a while.