(no subject)
So fucking amazing. Built up old school style..remember Topple?
So perfectly balanced. Magnificent colors, all formed atop each other, as to not break the the strip of allignment. Ready for comebacks so neatly filed, and never used. Never mentioned, but as a laugh. A joke. A never regretted toke, what a great childhood past...those chances, not one passed. Taken life by the horns, taken life as a thorn in the side, but secretly loves to be despised. Only the most priviliged can be let in, in to take a sip or cherry gin, sit by the fire, make toys out of left over matches. Battle list wounded:o-1. Better just run away from the days. The days of beauty and grace. Those past time are too amazing to share. Life is only grown in deep, dark, small spaces. Those monsters under your bed are real. And the only bad nightmares, are the ones that dont end up in tears. Remember those...times?
Seems too fresh to say that. But "those times" were the best I've ever had, "those times" were...foR gOd sake whaT is This?!? Ready to move on? Ready to jump on the train moving too fast, but the adrenalin is so grand, that the screaming little man in your head knows that you'll die. But where else is there to go? What else is there to see? A mind so intricate, What can one see without critisizing? What can one see without comebacks muttered under the breath? Everything. The world is a fucking masterpeice. Filled with sadness, joy, love, ambition. The moments are breaths. The memories are steps. Every one remembered and acknowledged, soon to be slow and effortless, for the world will demolish itself. Every motion moved, is a single 1/1000th of a muscle to make a smile, a nod, a frown, a confused facial expression face. What was that? Did you just?...I think you did. Well howdy doody I'm glad you got a hold of yourself. Glad that it'll be ok, when you know, and I know, it wont be for awhile. But, I guess a white lie, lying down in your gut, isnt as bad, as it would be, in your bed. But those days are over. Some just begin, a new slate. But some, and yes, I'm referring to you, are just too old, and stale, and unwanted now. I have a real thing going for me. A real boy. Not a man. I never wanted a man then. Just a plan. And a place. And a time when no one would try to find my face. And You, the man of now. The wanted and cherished. not hated and ignorant, you are there to hold, and love, and laugh with. Anytime, Everywhere. And that is more comforting than anything in the world. Not even a note from a favorite song could embrase this much talent. This much impulse to a new cliche. well you know what?
This isnt a cliche. This is real.
And real doesnt come often.
Real doesnt come often at all...
Does it?
hm. Today was stupid. and slow. and I actually felt guilty for lying.And guilty for smoking. And guilty for not participating. And guilty for not helping. And guilty. Just guilty. Get it?
-Emily
PS:being guilty is stupid.