Thanks Mom

"You don't have enough self esteem 
to feel like you can do anything."

All But

"I have all but died from the sheer weight of my shame."

Wondering If The

             "The movie theater was on the second floor also, and I was trying to spot the people who were going to the midday movie, wondering whether the blackness of the theater would fill the void and exasperate it."

As She Was Trying To Leave Me

 "I showed her the big gray empty space inside me.
I didn't meant to; it's just what happens when I disappoint someone I'm trying to impress."

Get Over It

And nothing ever had anything to do with me.

Alterations Realization

This disconnect I always wanted, I'll make it last as long as I can. Hope is a mindset, a state of mind that cannot be forced, its absence cannot be reckoned with. My mom said it won't feel like vacation forever, but it isn't a feeling of vacationing, just some change. Opportunity, for lack of a better word, it's the feeling of that letter might be the last one, and embarrassed stuttering may not occur when I explain what's going on. I'll be able to say work and school and feel alright, feel somewhat right. Not hear myself say that I wanted to see just how bad and low I could manage to get this life on my own, not that there is nothing I am able to do, but anything. I see a glimpse of hope, as maybe it sees me, long awaited on my journey of things I wanted to do that made me feel badly. The future isn't patient, and sometimes neither am I, but I've come to complete terms with wanting nothing else. And I know I spent this day's entirety in my bed, but nothing is an action or even response, but a mind state, and for the first time in a long time I don't mind where I am. Maybe who I am will follow one of these days.

I Loathe To Think

"I bitch and I moan, I lie and I cheat

Waiting for the night when I die in my sleep

I listen to the jukebox and sit by the bar

Taking care of a dog that got hit by a car

Praying for salvation, needing a miracle

Drowning in new music and reading material

Shoe laces untied, telling people I'm rich

Who can't tell the difference between real art and high kitch

Mouth like a broken bottle, crooked and bottomless

Half wolf, half crow, half hippopotamus

Sturdy as a paper bag, as well, my face is flawed

But keeping the fire going by the grace of God

And I'm loathe to think that we missed our chance

To find a way out of this downward dance

We got it all wrong

Singing a song with a rock in my mouth

Nobody knows what I'm talking about

Lost without a marketing plan and a stylist

Here comes the vilest nihilist finalist

Once and for all, barbed wire and rope

The most beautiful woman is strung out on dope

Slowly the music, died, died, died

Three white horses side by side

Last change to change, you better hurry, quick

Laying in a bed, wide awake and I'm worried sick

Completely out-foxed, I hide from the phone

And I swear this pen has a mind of its own

Jaws that go through solid steel, a clenched fist

A breath of fresh air for once and a French kiss

The weight of the world and collapsable me

I'm talking about trouble with a capital T

We got it all wrong"

Shy Because

Most nights I'd describe this as shy
but it's always and still me wanting to just say hi
I want to say something sweet and nice
but always go with the backup because
my defenses are just too high
and no one would think to ask
why
and i want to give you honesty but
when you open yourself up wide
you're leaving that door open for a cold draft
i guess once you've been that rejected
you just then know you gotta keep yourself ultra protected
aware it makes it more difficult for a connection
but each new face is not so much a fresh opportunity
but an old tired and bitter projection


and you'll forget that the shadow is unaware of what they've done
that nobody especially a lover would want to do that to someone

This One Box

"take these lies in the palm of your heart,
they are all that i have, this one box,
that holds my entire life in.
i bring flames of time burn, baby, burn.
my life is on fire, bind my soul as you see fit.
compress the words that i have left from my mouth to silence,
plagiarize my works of almost art,
mimicking your timeless glance into my shorten lifelines
that circle the equator that is you.
i span the world, i scan the world for someone that you cannot replace.
sing me a song, let me know how much you wouldn't care if i disappeared.
the box is yours if you want it.
this one's for courage, this one's for valor.
this one's discouraged by words and commitment,
and told you how i glance at other people
with the same sultry eyes of conceit.
what gives you the right to hold the gates at a distance?
i cannot be matched by persistence nor time.
i trust you more than i trust me,
deceive my blind eyes and trespass to my solemn vow.
i won't make you cry so i can make you feel better,
and i won't cry to make you feel whatever i want to make you feel.
this one's the invitation, a song for me to clear my mind,
melting the ink to form a letter to bond we eternally.
two folded pages of words i can't say with enough conviction
to make you see exactly what i mean.
the cello sings sad longer than my patience.
i hear it on empty streets where my heart beats.
this ghost town has skeletons that i can't see.
my retinas see transparencies, so please tell me, what's wrong?


let me see it through your eyes with no words, just touching,
'cause these words are as tired as the sun's predictable settings.
this one is for determination, this one is for, me.
this one has nothing to do with either of us.
and are you from another time, another place of displacement?
where our souls travel adjacent, and i smile without pretension.
i feel the tension strain upon my hands you left with me,
subject me to social scrutiny for your self-benefit.
i think it's probably best this way,
you and i can never be together anyway,
any place, any time, with masked emotion and more words to decipher.
six-line phrases of stupidity.
this rare photograph shows me as an old man, and i see myself all alone.
all these trinkets got stories i would tell you
but you listen with biased ears and no questions for me.
as my response, an empty box, wide open, and it's yours if you want it."

Getting Not Getting It

You can, and will, misunderstand and misinterpret anything and everything. They key is to be conscious and aware that there is room for error, and nothing is just the way it looks or seems. The key is not to understand and work out these things, this everything, you will drive yourself mad, when it is something like someone else's thoughts, especially if it is something like someone else's feelings. That isn't to say don't try, always try, but the goal is not to succeed, the goal is in the trying.

25,498 Days Since I Last Saw You

"When you finally remember– it will be like replacing
the one faulty bulb in a string of Christmas lights.


The autopsy is oblivious to how we lived."

Overcome Them

"Their faults can be as large in scale as their virtues, and when excessively negative they can be one of the most unpleasant human beings imaginable, displaying extreme arrogance, autocratic pride, haughtiness, and excessive hastiness of temper. If jealously suspicious of rivals, they will not hesitate to use cunning, lies and trickery to discredit them. Self-centeredness, greed for flattery, boastfulness, and bombast, pomposity, snobbish superiority, and overbearing, and intolerant disdain of underlings; to whom they will nevertheless delegate the carrying out of minor details in their grandiose schemes, and from whom they are not above borrowing immoderately if an occasion necessitates it. Any of these can be characteristics.


Add to them a passion for luxury, a lust for power, unlimited sexual lust, and emotional indulgence, and a character emerges that no one would want to know either in public life or private. But their pride may go before a fall, as uncontrolled impetuosity is likely to bring them low. Fortunately it is rare that they are so undisciplined as to give way thoroughly to this list of vices, and their tendencies to them are usually balanced by an innate wisdom. Those who are afflicted with them also have the intelligence it takes to consciously and actively overcome them."

Best/Worst Of 2011

(UNFINISHED:)
*somewhat chronological


Most Inspiring

• Jane Eyre
• The Dilemma
• Harry Potter 7 pt. II
• Our Idiot Brother
• Toy Story 3
• The Adjustment Bureau 
• Sucker Punch
• Hanna
• The Greatest Movie Ever Sold
• Bridesmaids
• Midnight in Paris
• X-Men First Class
• Beginners
• Super 8
• Crazy, Stupid, Love
• I Am
• Louder Than A Bomb
• Life in a Day
• The Help
• Drive
• The Tree of Life
• The Lion King 3D
• Glee 3D
• 50/50
• Finding Joe
• In Time
• The Future
• Like Crazy
• Melancholia
• Hugo
• The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Most Disappointing

• I Am Number Four
• The Green Hornet
• Limitless
• Beastly
• The Roommate
• Red Riding Hood
• The Hangover pt. II
• Unknown
• Source Code
• Your Highness
• The Other Woman
• The Debt
• Rise of the Planet of the Apes
• Dream House
• New Years Eve

Visceral

vis·cer·al

adj \ˈvi-sə-rəl, ˈvis-rəl\

Definition of VISCERAL

1

: felt in or as if in the internal organs of the body : deep visceral conviction>

2

: not intellectual : instinctive, unreasoning <visceral drives>

3

: dealing with crude or elemental emotions : earthy visceral novel>

visceral [ˈvɪsərəl]

adj

1. (Life Sciences & Allied Applications / Anatomy) of, relating to, or affecting the viscera

2. characterized by intuition or instinct rather than intellect

viscerally  adv

2.

visceral - obtained through intuition rather than from reasoning or observation intuitive, nonrational illogical, unlogical - lacking in correct logical relation

vis·cer·al

  [vis-er-uhl]

adjective

1.

of or pertaining to the viscera.

2.

affecting the viscera.

3.

of the nature of or resembling viscera.

4.

characterized by or proceeding from instinct rather than intellect: a visceral reaction.

5.

characterized by or dealing with coarse or base emotions;earthy; crude:  visceral literary style.

Asymetical Bond Doing Something Wrong

I've been throwing rocks at your window for years now
you love the attention, but hate the sound
tossing pebbles even when I know you're gone
hardly you but I still wrote you another love letter
this time five pages long
doing drastically better, the question then is why I am still on your lawn