some tilted pride

various realisations lost in the fucking rain and the convenience stores. i am incredibly empty inside. put on airs of morality and decency, act right to make things easier. but i have no lines drawn within me. there's no god and devil, no right and wrong. death means nothing, feelings are irrelevant, anticipation is boring. i am boring. no need to write everything down anymore; i can sum everything up with a cigarette downtown in the rain and wind, staring at someone else's shoes, waiting for my watch to display the numbers that mean i need to walk in another direction. entwined with imaginary lovers for $20 a pop, chewing stale gum to chase away the dizziness, occupy my nervous muscles. dreaming of absent villains from an uncertain past, gladly awaking to the wet and the cold. trying in vain to fill my mind with disdain, finding it hard to muster up the necessary vehemence. my inherited distance keeps me safe from harm.

i swear there was something really real last night. lucinda williams over and over, couldn't sleep, twitching with brainstorms about myself. that's all that ever really matters, apparently. i am more than an island, i'm a fucking pillar in a goddam ruin. the remnants of an adopted lifestyle, held together with cheap jackets and fast bike rides. i will never see myself.

...whatever i'm talking about. i'm not sure anymore, to be honest. i love life and hate myself sometimes. i just had 32oz of sparks. it sounds petty to say that i don't care. tacky, even. but i really don't. i love listening to this music repeatedly, crawling inside the songs, lamenting the volume limits. i can forget myself for minutes at a time with the right songs, breathe easily, ease up a tad. but as soon as they're over, it's right back to this darkness and this vacancy and this lack of direction and this loneliness and this crippling laughter. maybe i need to start wearing hats more often.

back to lucinda. keep running and playing, lying and panting. keep relaxation at bay, write a few lines to get a reaction, convince myself i'm more whole than i feel. except nobody is whole, nobody is real. i can't make this loud enough to win you over, but i'll be damned if that'll stop me from trying. if you would lift a fucking finger, i'd break my own heart in your name.