They told us about Love
For we, begging, not ready:
Catatonia in the gloaming,
Crawling on road broken.

The Wrong Girls

Fetch me my toolbox, I've been contracted.
It's a big job, but I'm not the only repairman in town.
My uniform is a little dirty, not even sure it fits.
But it's work, and I gotta live.

This engine doesn't look familiar.
It never does.
Is that a standard bolt or is it metric?
I remember that 68 Camaro, can hear her crying now.
Turning 3/4 ( Read more... )

I believe the vice grips are man's greatest invention ( Read more... )

i think this will be my last entry. everything is different now. i had a moment recently. i've told a couple of people about it and i want to tell more, i want to tell everyone. that one moment was an epic one and i will never forget it. i think i'd like to become a private person now, and this journal is a place to start. time to tie up some ( Read more... )

I am ashamed at how much she is still with me, how much she is in my thoughts.
I am weary of all the hurt I have become.
How important she still is.
She has taken too much of me.
I am not strong.
Only a spectator,
Having paid too much for admission.

i miss being able to trust someone wholly to be there....not to be on my
side, but to want to be BY my side....is THIS too much to ask? how can you
put that on one person....i guess i just want someone to offer it, and feel
exhilarated, not obligated.

aggressive growth
weed out
friends fall by the wayside
it becomes obvious
who's supposed to be there.

But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall.
Then I think we would see the beauty.
Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges,
like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.

it'll be worth it

you'll see

I miss my friend