a kind of smile
get up, kids. we're not boring, just slightly bored. i wake up early and ride my bike, so now i have a new computer. a fair trade society, i reckon. also got a huge guitar amp and a steady stream of mountain dew. wait.
(i'm doing laundry.)
if i got a haircut and lasik surgery would i still be the same? i don't think so. gotsta keep my distance from respectability. firmly rooted in the loose soil of the jokingly fringe.
i feel like i'm all set for Something To Happen now, you know? got a job, talky-talky, get wasted, what's next? crossing hastily re-drawn lines: fixed, cell, cigs, drink, chrome, laptop. listening to latter-day everclear: i feel complete when i feel sick inside. i can barely make out these letters on the screen. hm.
this has to all be FOR someone, doesn't it? why am i so suckered in by all the movies and books, songs and parents? i really couldn't give less of a fuck about other people, and yet i keep coming back to them as motivational themes. is everyone just joking when they get married, hold hands? playing along because it's the thing to do? why are strip clubs so mesmerizing? (besides the obvious.) if i burn enough candles, will my emptiness fill up with divine smoke and make me feel okay like this? the ultimate slur is one whispered.
kinda wish i could take my glasses off and fuck up, relax in a hospital bed. kinda not really, actually. i'd rather watch the darjeeling limited again and quaff another soda, chew some gum. black hoodies and blue jeans. it's so fucking simple it hurts.
you know how this all sounds the same? yeah, so do i.
the roast is a little dry, isn't it?
taking careful steps toward my death. oklahoma, library, wal-mart? i don't even know anymore. i see nothing worth pining after. except perhaps music? drums & guitar? i'll work on that.
quietly drying up, slipping down, fading out, dialing in. where are the paragraphs, the revelations? the screaming chorus is missing from this ditty. when it gets dark right after lunch, there's nothing left but convenience stores and incense.
FUCK THIS IS DUMB. but at least i have a husband. i won't be watching my own train wreck alone, dammit.
all this is nothing and i love hating it
hoarse conscience silenced by the distortion in my ears
there's no answer in sight; only a 750ml solution down the street
i've never been real and i'll never mind
hide hide from this as long as you can kiddies, the food's run out
stagger onward with the chemical light
pack yr bags and ignore my offers please thanks
bollocks
(i'm doing laundry.)
if i got a haircut and lasik surgery would i still be the same? i don't think so. gotsta keep my distance from respectability. firmly rooted in the loose soil of the jokingly fringe.
i feel like i'm all set for Something To Happen now, you know? got a job, talky-talky, get wasted, what's next? crossing hastily re-drawn lines: fixed, cell, cigs, drink, chrome, laptop. listening to latter-day everclear: i feel complete when i feel sick inside. i can barely make out these letters on the screen. hm.
this has to all be FOR someone, doesn't it? why am i so suckered in by all the movies and books, songs and parents? i really couldn't give less of a fuck about other people, and yet i keep coming back to them as motivational themes. is everyone just joking when they get married, hold hands? playing along because it's the thing to do? why are strip clubs so mesmerizing? (besides the obvious.) if i burn enough candles, will my emptiness fill up with divine smoke and make me feel okay like this? the ultimate slur is one whispered.
kinda wish i could take my glasses off and fuck up, relax in a hospital bed. kinda not really, actually. i'd rather watch the darjeeling limited again and quaff another soda, chew some gum. black hoodies and blue jeans. it's so fucking simple it hurts.
you know how this all sounds the same? yeah, so do i.
the roast is a little dry, isn't it?
taking careful steps toward my death. oklahoma, library, wal-mart? i don't even know anymore. i see nothing worth pining after. except perhaps music? drums & guitar? i'll work on that.
quietly drying up, slipping down, fading out, dialing in. where are the paragraphs, the revelations? the screaming chorus is missing from this ditty. when it gets dark right after lunch, there's nothing left but convenience stores and incense.
FUCK THIS IS DUMB. but at least i have a husband. i won't be watching my own train wreck alone, dammit.
all this is nothing and i love hating it
hoarse conscience silenced by the distortion in my ears
there's no answer in sight; only a 750ml solution down the street
i've never been real and i'll never mind
hide hide from this as long as you can kiddies, the food's run out
stagger onward with the chemical light
pack yr bags and ignore my offers please thanks
bollocks
posted by Jesse at 6:18 PM
2 Comments:
the promised oblivion has been delivered nirvana bleach wednesday not dead yet what is tomorrow for strawberry chewing gum has no taste anymore but i still reel from the memory can you feel my love fake disdain secret stumble vomit stifle take this not at face value guide dogs for the blind cheap discount vermin for the sick and dying i want your hand on my shoulder my head on your chest i don't know your name but i can feel your face with my imaginary hands if i puke on your disassociation will you remember me when they ask you for the list of forgotten tunes IF I TAKE A BREATH I CAN LAST ANOTHER MINUTE all i ask is recognition repetition original concept early morning hate my flimsy convictions made-up words ignored distractions repeated lamentations and long breaks from reason logic composition i would die for you and i try twice a week do you believe me i don't
I fucking KNEW the one comment was from you, Jesse, piece of shits.
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