all that we can pull from these guitars is sound anymore.
and we all know, this is impossible to ask of you now -
that you forget these songs, and you forgive me for the words
that i said... we should still be friends... and i am laid low
by the sound of your voice now

we didn't ride them fast enough, those bicycles - the one with the gears that slip, the one with bad breaks. we should have gone further, faster, until we were blurred colors (orange and blue) and the town around us was. this used to be train-tracks. can you imagine? we could have been hopping trains right here. we could have been passing through, ( Read more... )

i should've written about it right after it happened, but its been so long now that i can't remember what it was or what it meant. it seemed to have meant everything, and you were there. or maybe it meant so much because of you. so much the better. and again, you'll never know. you'll never read it. i'll never tell you

this isn't what we meant when we said "this will last forever", but i guess it fits. we were all so young, with small years between us, and we never saw anything clearer than this, or straight at all. over and over and over we said(over and over and over again): this a loud noise, so we cover our ears and bite down into our arms. we never heard, ( Read more... )

the words that you really mean;
you mean so much they're nearly incoherent,
they sound fuzzy and wrong through the speakers of cell phones
or maybe this is just the way you talk. in accusatory tones
in off-blues and bright whites, in splashes
and no matter the beauty, i am at a loss
because i can't help feeling abused if i haven't been
i feel ( Read more... )

lets dress like nerds
and get real drunk, tonight.

i was about to tell you about my life, in detail.
how things have been going, my plans for the future, and all.
but i stopped myself.

hey now, wait. we never agreed to this. we said i'd take the low road - the one i'm best at taking - and you'd take the high road, streaming feathers and riding white above our heads. this is sure as hell not the plan. this is cumbersome and awkward; i feel human all of a sudden, and i loathe it. now you're always with me, and we were supposed to ( Read more... )

more and more, as i get older and grow increasingly disillusioned, i feel myself losing those bonds that made life mean so much earlier on; as it goes, life seems less and less lived through/with other people, and more toward the solitary. i miss so many and i miss so much. i watched a short film set to music, of many of my old friends living in ( Read more... )

you'll understand, i have to be vague:
because it isn't planned, it never was ( Read more... )