hindsight is wonderful when its right. i look back. fuck-ing beautiful.
twoclock. i should have written a book when i had it in me.
to get it out. now its trapped in. every word i once wanted to shout. now its back to myself. always wondering what i would have wanted if i wanted anything
to begin with.
its funny how daydreams kill dayliving. and daylife is like a dream. sometimes.
happy holidays. happy new year. whats it all mean. we are alive.
we sit and chat and reminisce about different things that seem the same when we are sighing and goodbye-ing off awkwardness and familiarity.
so? i screwed myself because i knew i could with the leeway some things give. so? i took it out on the lesser times. only to wonder why i felt so guilty later.
so? i dote on the things i love when they are stargazing into other eyes while we bullshit the day away with pointless things that most people call necessities.
maybe you wont waltz with me forever. but i am going to make you see my face until the day you get so bored with me that i fall from your side.
its funny how hindsight is twenty-twenty. so? i fucked myself. so? i went on dreaming.
so? i turned wine into water. so? i jumped ship and made myself an otherwordly replica of want and trust.
the true thing is in my eyes. they always turn sleepy and look elsewhere.
so? i may kiss cousins in my sleep. jump off of building tops. and carry you on my back through cheesy drugstores in the middle of the town next-over that we both happen to live in.
so? i live in good thoughts while everything else moves by itself. so?im listening to something old that makes me want to cry and dance and die. so? i would love to fall into a daze sometimes and trip away the rest of my life if i could just shake the part of the world. that brings me closer to meeting myself.